


Into My Arms

by slytherinsnarkinthedark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Virgin Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinsnarkinthedark/pseuds/slytherinsnarkinthedark
Summary: Hermione does not make it out of Malfoy Manor with Harry and Ron. After being brutally tortured and assaulted, Severus Snape takes her back to his home where they develop a friendship and more in the months leading up to the final battle.





	1. Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first fic, so go easy on me. This first chapter has an explicit non con scene, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, please don't read. It will be a multi-chapter monster, I've had this story in my head for a while now. Please review! Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 “Tell me how you got the sword! What else did you take from my vault?” Bellatrix Lestrange spat in Hermione Granger’s face as she pinned her down.

 

The young witch was unable to move, to wiggle away from the sadist who was currently torturing her. For the first time since she, Harry, and Ron went on the run she was genuinely scared. This was different from the Department of Mysteries. She was well and truly alone, the only people who could help were trapped in the Malfoy’s cellar.

 

“I don’t know! I swear!” Hermione pleaded. Any other time Bellatrix would have been elated to hear her begging, but not today. If the Dark Lord knew that Potter had gained access to her vault, he would murder her on the spot.

 

“Maybe a round of the _Cruciatus_ will loosen that filthy, lying tongue of yours, mudblood,” Bellatrix screamed, spit flying everywhere. “ _Crucio!_ ”

 

Hermione had never felt such pain in her entire life. She tried not to scream, but shouts escaped her open mouth anyway. Her blood felt as if it were on fire and her fingers dug into the plush sheepskin rug in the Malfoy’s drawing room.  

 

“How did you like that, hmm?” Bellatrix jabbed her wand into Hermione’s side after lifting the curse. “I’ll ask you once more. What else did you take from my vault?” Hermione coughed and lifted her head defiantly. _This is it. I am going to die here._

“I don’t know,” Hermione signed her death warrant right there. Bellatrix’s face screwed up in anger.

 

“Have it your way! _Crucio!”_

The curse was unrelenting. Hermione lost control of her bladder, her urine staining the white rug.

 

“Enough Bella. It is time to call the Dark Lord,” Lucius Malfoy’s face twisted up in disgust at the display in front of him. He never thought it would have come to this. Draco and Narcissa held each other beside him, glancing at him for guidance.

 

“No! If we call him now he will kill us all!” Bellatrix released the curse on Hermione, who attempted to crawl away, but was stopped by the pointed heel of Bellatrix’s boot. Fear was written across the older witch’s face.

 

“It matters not! Either way our lives are forfeit,” Lucius pulled up his sleeve and began to touch his wand to the mark when he heard a bang.

The whole mansion shook with the force of an unseen impact. Lucius and Bellatrix glanced up at the same time to see Dobby dropping a crystal chandelier on their heads.  Bellatrix snatched Hermione and darted out of the way. Harry Potter burst into the room followed by Ron Weasley. Bellatrix yanked a knife out of her boot and held it to Hermione’s throat.

 

“Let her go!” Harry shouted, his wand trained on the mad witch. She cackled at his brashness.

 

“What are you going to do about it, Potter?”

 

Harry and Ron threw curses at the same time. Ron’s hit Draco square in the chest, blasting him backwards. Narcissa screamed and fired a spell back at with the youngest Weasley boy. She was impressive, which came as a shock to Ron. He struggled to put up shields fast enough. Harry succeeded with stunning Lucius fast enough and turned to Bellatrix. She still had the knife pressed to Hermione’s jugular.

 

“One more move and she’s dead!” Bellatrix snarled, pushing the knife further into the soft flesh of Hermione’s throat. Hermione whimpered. She looked at Harry, tears in her eyes. He could do nothing but look back.

 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed to him. Harry shook his head and trained his wand on Bellatrix. This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening. Harry’s arm trembled as he tried to think of something.

 

“Tick tock, Potter! Your little mudblood slut is about to die!” Bellatrix taunted.

 

“No!” Harry threw a stunner in her direction, which she easily blocked. Ron saw his chance. He lunged sideways at Bellatrix, knocking her and Hermione to the ground, her wand rolling across the drawing room. Bellatrix grabbed her knife and climbed on top of Ron. Just as she was about to plunge it into his chest, he disappeared.

 

“Ron? Ron!” Harry shouted. Dobby popped out of nowhere, and started tugging on Harry’s sleeve.

 

“Dobby has Harry Potter’s red friend! Come now with Dobby! We has to be leaving!” Dobby pleaded with Harry.

 

“Not without Hermione!”

 

“You is giving Dobby no choice!” Dobby grabs Harry’s leg and disapparates, just as Bellatrix throws her knife in their direction. She smirks wickedly when it disappears with them. Lucius crawls out from underneath a pile of rubble, shaking debris out of his less than perfect blonde hair.

 

“What happened? Where did they go?” Lucius asked Bellatrix.

“It matters not, Lucius,” Bellatrix mocked.

 

“What do you plan on doing with the mudblood?”

 

“Call the others. I’m sure they’ll think of something,” they both stared at Hermione’s unconscious, dirt covered body.

 

* * *

 

 Harry landed on the beach at Shell Cottage ten feet from Ron.

 

“Ron!”

 

“What happened? Where’s Hermione? I was right by her and then it was like something bloody grabbed me and brought me here!” Ron looked as if he was about to cry. He had been so close to Hermione when Bellatrix had climbed on top of him. He just knew he was a goner. He had looked at Hermione’s bruised face one last time, ready to die, before Dobby had gotten him out.

 

“It was Dobby. He brought us both here, he can go back and get Hermione. Dobby!” Harry looked around, frantic for the little house elf. He spotted him lying off in the sand, on his side. Harry and Ron ran over to him and saw that he was unmoving.

 

“Dobby?” Harry fell to his knees beside the creature. “Dobby, please,” he shook his body, but nothing happened. Those large eyes only stared blankly at the gray sky.

 

“Harry,” Ron choked out. “How are we supposed to get Hermione?”

 

Harry only looked at Ron.

 

* * *

 

 “He did WHAT?!” Voldemort screamed at Bellatrix, who cowered at his towering, snakelike form.

 

“My Lord, it was not my fault! We were just about to call you when that stupid house elf intervened!”

 

“Bested by a house elf, Bella? You incompetent fool!” The Dark Lord backhanded her across the face. He stormed over to Hermione, still unconscious on the ground.

 

“ _Rennervate_ ,”

 

Hermione shot up, gasping for air. When her eyes landed on Voldemort, she let out a blood curdling scream. He grabbed her by her jacket and lifted her closer to his face.

 

 _“Legelimens,”_ he was in her mind in an instant. He rifled through her thoughts, looking for anything that had to do with Bellatrix’s vault and what was hidden inside.

 

Hermione managed to find that last bit of inner strength and her Occlumency shields slammed down. All those sleepless nights at Grimmauld Place reading Occlumency books finally paid off. Voldemort pushed hard against them, but they would not budge. He scanned along the outside of the barrier Hermione had set up, but he could not find a single crack. Her shield was perfect. Voldemort shot a stunner at Hermione and she was knocked out again.

 

“Greyback!”

 

“Yes, My Lord?”

 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

 

* * *

 

 Severus Snape was not a happy man. Hogwarts was closed and he relished the free time he now had. Apart from worrying about bloody Potter and his idiotic friends, of course. His mark started burning as he was reading the Daily Prophet and he wasted no time summoning his robes and mask and Apparating to the Dark Lord’s side.

 

He stormed through the halls of Malfoy Manor, stumbling across the drawing room. He stopped in his tracks. _What the fuck happened here?_ The entire room was destroyed, broken glass and rubble strewn about. He hesitantly made his way to where he knew the Dark Lord would be waiting.

 

“Ah, Severus. So lovely of you to join us,” the Dark Lord hissed at him. All of the Death Eaters were present behind him, which was not normal. Whenever he was summoned there were only few present; Bella, Cissy, and Lucius usually. The fact that all of the Dark Lord’s minions were present was not good. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we had a bit of an… altercation here today,” Snape remained silent, unmoving.

 

“Lucius has failed me yet again. However, we were left with one little prize.” The Dark Lord swept his robes to the side and Snape was presented with Hermione Granger. He hadn’t seen the irritating little swot in almost a year. If she was here, then Potter and Weasley must not be far behind…

 

“Potter and Weasley managed to escape,” Bellatrix flinched at his words, for they were surely directed at her. “But the mudblood is still here. She is alive, for now. Her death will be a major blow to Potter, no doubt. My loyal followers!” He clapped his scaly hands together. The congregation all turned their attention to him. “She is all yours.” The men all hooted and hollered, grinning from ear to ear. Clearly, they were excited to have a new toy to play with. Snape felt his stomach roll. He had to do something, anything.

 

“My Lord, did you not attempt to invade her mind? Seek out any useful information?” The Dark Lord’s smile disappeared.

 

“You dare, Severus? _Crucio!”_ Snape fell to the ground. By this point he was a pro at not making a sound, even after multiple bouts of the _Cruciatus_. He simply twisted on the ground, his body curling itself into a tight ball, until the Dark Lord lowered his wand.

 

“My loyal followers!” he turned away from Snape. “Do what you please with this mudblood filth!” Greyback was the first on Hermione, yanking her body over his shoulder and carrying her off, much to the delight of his brothers. Snape rolled onto his back, staring up at the Dark Lord.

 

“Go, Severus. Even though you may not be able to participate in what your brothers have planned, I still expect you to be present.”

 

“Yes, my Lord.” Snape shoved himself off the ground and hobbled after Greyback and the others.

 

* * *

 

 Hermione gasped. Her eyes shot open. Vision blurry, she stared up at the white ceiling. _Is this Heaven?_ She tried to lift an arm, but it fell limp onto the mattress. _Mattress? Where am I?_ She slowly sat up. She was surrounded by Death Eaters. They were on all sides of her, all wearing those black robes and silver masks. Everywhere she looked, there was a Death Eater. There was no way out. She was on some sort of weird bed in the middle of the room, unable to even see an exit.

 

“Hello, love,” a deep voice snarled at her. “Remember me?” She recognized that voice. _Dolohov. The Department of Mysteries. Fuck._ The rest of the Death Eaters removed their masks.

“Unfortunately, I do,” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as he slowly advanced. He trailed his fingertips up her arm. She fought the urge to smack him.

 

“Still feisty, I see. Boy, are we going to have some fun with you,” Dolohov laughed.

 

 _What is he talking about?_ With a snap of his fingers, her clothes were gone. _No. Not this. Anything but this._ Hermione immediately went to cover herself, but Dolohov was faster. He was on top of her in a flash.

 

“No! Get off of me! Please!” She begged to no avail. He was already unzipping his pants and pressing her down into the soft mattress with his body weight.

 

“So soft…” He ran his mouth along her neck, pinning her hands above her head. She jerked and twisted when his lips made contact with the sensitive skin near her shoulder. He grabbed both of her wrists with one large palm and trailed his other hand down the length of her body, to the curls in between her thighs. He slipped a finger down further into her entrance, feeling a barrier.

 

“A virgin, too!” Some Death Eaters laughed and jeered, others whined in disappointment that they would not be the first to enter this witch.

 

Hermione struggled against his hand, which only excited him further. Once she was wet enough to his liking, he shoved his hard length in her body. She let out a blood curdling scream as he began to thrust, giving her no time to adjust.

 

After a few minutes of his thrusting, Hermione stopped struggling. She let her body go limp as Dolohov rutted on top of her. She would not give him the satisfaction of watching her struggle and hearing her scream. Hermione turned her head away from Dolohov’s face and made eye contact with Severus Snape. _Oh, god. He’s here._ Snape caught her eyes briefly. _Maybe he’ll help me…_ Her mouth opened in shock and she started crying silently as he turned away. With one final thrust, Dolohov emptied himself inside of her.

 

“Who’s next?” Dolohov cackled after doing up his pants.

 

Hermione lay there for a moment, trying to imagine she was anywhere else. She could feel his issue dripping out of her. She reached a hand down the juncture of her thighs and felt his sticky release coating her legs. _No. No, no, no._ She had to make a run for it. Without even thinking, she hopped off of the bed and ran to a corner of the room, only to be stopped and dragged right back to the mattress now stained with her blood.

 

“Carrow! Your turn!” Dolohov shouted.

 

Amycus Carrow rubbed his hands together in glee as he made his way over to Hermione. His sister, Alecto, watched on with her arms crossed and hatred on her face. Hermione, still being held down by a random young Death Eater, glared at Carrow’s ugly face. He reached out a hand and traced her lips.

 

“I bet they’d feel wonderful around my cock,” he leered. Hermione jumped and bit his finger hard, blood squirting out of the end. He stumbled back, screaming in pain. “You bloody bitch!” He punched her square in the face. She could instantly feel her eye swelling and bruising. The blows did not stop. Carrow kept punching Hermione wherever he could. Her stomach, her ribs, her face. Nothing was off limits. After letting his anger out, he climbed on top of her and thrust hard into her unwilling body. Blood trickled down her throat, pooling in her esophagus. She lifted her head up, so she would not choke as Carrow thrust wildly.

 

It continued like this for an hour. One by one, Death Eaters would take their turns using Hermione. They would bite and scratch and violate. After a while she stopped counting altogether. Peter Pettigrew walked forward after Yaxley finished, intent on having a go. Hermione gave him the nastiest look she could muster as he leaned over top of her. _Not him. Anyone but him._ Just as he was about to press his dirty, rotten mouth onto hers, Hermione’s knee swiftly came up, hitting him directly in the groin. She turned her face and braced herself for his slap. Snape made eye contact with her for the second time that night. She could have sworn she saw his lips twitch. The blow never came. Instead, Pettigrew wrapped his silver hand around her throat and squeezed. The air supply to her brain was quickly shut off and her vision became blurry.

 

“Oi! Don’t kill her yet! I haven’t had a go!” A random in the crowd shouted.

 

Pettigrew reluctantly let go and stormed off. Limped, rather.

 

“Draco should have a turn!” Bellatrix shouted from her vantage point. “Go on, nephew. Get your revenge on the mudblood who had bested you for years.” Narcissa shot Bellatrix the dirtiest look she could muster. Rookwood grabbed him by his year and led him to Hermione. Draco looked nauseous.

 

“Go on, boy!” Rookwood clapped him on his shoulder. Draco reluctantly began palming himself through his trousers. Hermione tried her hardest to make eye contact with him. _I hate you, you little blonde prick._

 

“I – I don’t think I can,” Draco whined. He shoved his whole hand down the front of his trousers jerking himself off, but he could not get an erection with Granger looking at him like that. The crowd booed and Lucius yanked Draco back in line.

 

“I guess I should continue what was interrupted earlier, shouldn’t I?” Bellatrix strode forward. “My dearest sister let me borrow her knife, since mine is buried in the heart of Harry Potter,” Hermione thrashed on the bed.

 

“You’re lying!”

 

“Am I?” Bellatrix laughed. She pulled Narcissa’s matching knife from around her back and grabbed Hermione’s arm.  “Now’s the time to start begging, mudblood.”

 

“Fuck you,” Hermione would not let her have this victory.

 

Bellatrix smirked and dug the knife into the skin of Hermione’s forearm.

 

“Not so tough now, are you girly?” Hermione could feel every letter Bellatrix was carving into her flesh. “This just might be my masterpiece.” Bellatrix admired her work from afar.

 

“That’s it! I’ve waited long enough!” Greyback snarled and bounded forward, ready to take his turn. “You look delicious,” he enjoyed the way she shivered in disgust. One thrust and he was seated all the way inside of Hermione. He was huge, she could feel herself practically tearing. As she began to lose consciousness, she looked at Snape. One of her blood and grime covered hands reached out toward him.

 

“Please,” she gasped before her world went black.

 

* * *

 

 

He was stunned. Seeing her little hand reach out for him almost caused him to start retching right there. _I am truly damned._ There was nothing he could do to get her out of here, to stop her misery. He had never felt more worthless in his whole life. Hermione Granger was insufferable but she did not deserve this. All of these monsters relished her struggles and her whimpers but he was revolted. _Still, I am no better than this filth._

 

As Greyback roared during his climax, Snape watched the girl. He looked for any signs of life. He saw none.

 

“Now, time for a little snack,” Greyback lowed his sharp teeth to her flesh.

 

“Stop,” Snape saw his opportunity to strike.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me you wanna have a go? You can’t even get it up!” Greyback turned to Hermione again.

 

“The Dark Lord ordered me to dispose of her corpse. As you can see, she is clearly on her way out. Now if you wouldn’t mind…” Snape strode forward and levitated Hermione’s naked and battered body off of the semen covered mattress.

 

“This is bullshit, Snape! He said I could have her!” Greyback shouted.

 

“Call it what you want, Greyback. Would you really like to question the Dark Lord?”

 

Snape swiftly levitated Hermione through the winding halls of Malfoy Manor. Once he made it to the gate, he dropped her body into his arms and disapparated on the spot.


	2. Spinner's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I can't remember if I included this in the first chapter, but in this story Hogwarts is closed and Snape never became Headmaster. Sorry for any typos and errors. I hope everyone enjoys Chapter 2!

 Hermione groaned. Everything hurt, head to toe. Strangely enough, she felt calm. Surprised to be alive, but calm. She wiggled her fingertips, feeling the scratchy sheets under her hands. She was covered and the room was dark. _How odd. They haven’t killed me yet._ Her hair was matted and stuck to the side of her head. She turned slightly and saw him.

 

Severus Snape sat in a chair by her bed, looking like pure hell. Hermione stared at him, whiskey colored eyes meeting black. Snape was expecting her to panic upon seeing him. If it were him, he would scream bloody murder. He would try to run, to get out of there, but she didn’t. She just stared at him, waiting for him to make the next move.

 

“Are you going to kill me?” She finally asked after an eternity of staring.

 

“No. I am not,” he shifts awkwardly in his chair. _Why is this slip of a girl unnerving me?_ “I’ve worked hard to save your life, I would not want to ruin all my hard work.”

 

“Where am I?” Her eyes adjusted enough in the darkness for her to see that she was in a dingy looking bedroom. The place had obviously not been cleaned in a while. Other than the double bed she was on, there was hardly any other furniture. A dresser in the corner and a nightstand covered in vials.

 

“Always with the questions, Granger.”

 

“Where am I?” Her voice was serious and did not shake as she repeated her question.

 

“My home. In Cokeworth.”

 

“And how long have I been out?”

 

“Two days.”

 

“Two days…” She shook her head and made to swing her legs over the side of the bed. She flinched in pain before she could even sit up. _There it is._ Her ribs were throbbing, along with her head and various other parts of her body.

 

“Oh no you don’t. Your body is not healed nearly enough for you to be up prancing around like an idiot.” With a flick of his wand she was wrapped back up in the heavy quilt covering her body.

 

“Harry and Ron…” She trailed off. Why would he care? He was one of them. Suddenly she remembered. He was there. He watched.

 

“They are both alive and lost without you, no doubt.”

“I have to get back to them. I can’t stay here.”

 

“You can and you will.”

 

“You will not hold me hostage.”

 

“The Dark Lord believes you to be dead.”

 

 _What?! If he believes me to be dead, so does Harry and Ron!_ This was a bloody mess. How was she supposed to help them if she was trapped at Snape’s house? There had to be some way out. Maybe her wand…

 

“So, you’re saying that if I leave he will kill you.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And why is that my problem?” She blurted before thinking. It was like she slapped him. He recovered quickly enough.

 

“I do not want to die because of some ungrateful chit,” he sneered at her.

 

“So why save me at all?”

 

“I’m asking myself the same question. Here, you have potions to take.” He got up and grabbed several vials off of the nightstand. She saw the familiar blue of Pain Relief and the purple of Dreamless Sleep, but she was still hesitant. He uncorked the vials and held them out to her. She looked at them in suspicion. There was no way she would take those. But then again, her ribcage was throbbing enough to make her want to cry.

 

“You’ve been taking these for days now, Granger. There’s no point in refusing them.”

 

 _Fuck._ He was right. Oh, well. She opened her mouth and he poured the Pain Relief in. It barely even helped.

 

“It didn’t really do anything. Is it old?”

 

“No. Your injuries are severe.”

 

He held another blue vial to her lips and she swallowed. _Better._ Just as she was about to snuggle back down and accept that vial of Dreamless Sleep, she felt a pressing need to go to the loo.

 

“I need the loo.”

 

“No.”

 

“What do you mean no? Do you want me to piss all over myself?”

 

Snape pursed his lips. She was the most stubborn girl he had ever encountered. Why couldn’t she just take the damn potion and go to sleep? He had already been up for two days straight watching over her and making sure she wouldn’t slip into a coma for fuck’s sake. Now that she was awake and her mind was intact, all he wanted to do is go to sleep.

 

“Fine.”

 

Hermione was able to swing her legs off of the bed. Her toes touched the cold, wooden floor and she shivered involuntarily. _That’s right, I’m totally naked. In front of my Professor._ She swallowed the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.  She didn’t want him to think she was losing it.

 

Snape saw her hesitance to stand up. _That’s right, the girl is totally naked._ His Adam’s apple bobbed as he unclasped his robes and held them out for her. Hermione’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Snape closed her eyes to give her some sort of privacy as she slowly stood and reached for the robes. As she was getting out of the bed, everything became dizzy and her leg got caught in the quilt dangling off the edge. Her hand shot out to grab Snape. His eyes popped open and he grabbed her. They could only stare at each other for a brief moment before Snape averted his eyes and covered her with his robes.

 

“Everything was dizzy. Sorry,” Hermione suddenly felt so weak. Her bladder throbbed to the point of pain. “The loo?”

 

“Right.” Snape cleared his throat and led her out of the room. Hermione tried to take in as much of her surroundings as she could. The hallway matched the atmosphere of the bedroom. Dank, dark, depressing, and dusty. _No wonder he’s so miserable. Look at how he lives._ At least the bathroom seemed to have been cleaned recently. There was a clawfoot tub and sink, along with the toilet. Hermione immediately strode to the toilet and struggled trying to pull Snape’s voluminous robes up over her hips. The minute her bottom touched the toilet seat she let out a long moan and let it flow, forgetting Snape was even there.

 

“I’ll be outside.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

She didn’t even glance in his direction. When she finished she staggered over to the sink to wash her hands. The person in the mirror was unfamiliar to her. She was bruised and cut. Her face was swollen, her eyes red. Her mouth dropped open. It was suddenly all so real. She really was tortured and raped for hours by men she didn’t even know the name of. She vomited right there, in the sink. Snape flew into the room, sans billowing robes.

He grabbed her bushy mane of hair and held it out of the way. Hermione had no food left in her stomach, bile hit the sides of the sink. She couldn’t stop retching. Blood vessels bulged and tears streamed uncontrollably. She angrily wiped them away. Snape dropped her hair quick and stepped away.

 

“I want a bath,” Hermione met Snape’s eyes. He rolled them.

 

“You have been through enough today. Get back in bed.”

 

“Please,”

 

“Granger…”

 

“I just feel so dirty,” Her voice was tiny, the tiniest he had ever heard it. He groaned internally and swished his wand toward the taps. The tub began filling at a rapid pace. “Thank you,” She turned from him and slipped the large robes off of her shoulders. He grabbed her arm and forced himself to keep his eyes away from her nakedness. He had never felt so awkward and inadequate. She lowered herself down into the water. As soon as her tender privates hit the warm bath water, she hissed. Her face twisted in pain and it made Snape’s chest tighten. Guilt came crashing down.

 

“I will be down the hall. Shout if you need me. You have thirty minutes,” and then he was gone. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them. How on Earth did all of this happen? Three days ago, she was with Harry and Ron in that stupid little tent, eating berries and leaves, and now she was with a murderer. _Dumbledore’s murderer._ Harry would be livid if he knew. _Oh, Harry._ She missed them so much. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she kept her sobs quiet. She could not let him hear her. She could not show weakness.

 

He had left a flannel and bar of soap on the side of the tub. She grabbed it and started rubbing her skin raw. Only then did she notice the bandages on her arm. Her fingers twitched to rip it off and see whatever Bellatrix had carved into her arm. She resisted the urge and draped her arm over the side of the tub, so she wouldn’t get the bandages wet. She brought the washcloth down to her center and cried out. There was no way to describe the pain. Hermione had wanted the loss of her virginity to be perfect. She wanted it to be Ron. Ron was everything she wanted. He was kind and he loved her. That’s all she could have ever wanted in a partner. And now it was all ruined. Who would want her now that she had been tainted by such filth? Who would be able to deal with the psychological trauma she would undoubtedly have?

 

She had to stop thinking, to turn off the thoughts that were running through her head. Snape would surely be upset if she started having a panic attack the moment he left her alone. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the warm water surrounding her. Her hair was matted beyond belief, it would take hours for her to detangle it without magic. _Maybe Snape will do it for me._ Hmm, Snape… what was his deal? The man hadn’t even glanced at her naked body once since she had been awake. He hadn’t touched her more than he needed to. Why? Why would he even save her life? _Maybe he wants to keep me for himself…_ that doesn’t seem very likely either.

 

Before Hermione knew it, thirty minutes had passed and Snape entered the room, a clean cloth and jar of some kind of paste in hand. His eyes were trained on the top of her head.

 

“Now is a good time to change the dressings on your arm,” Snape unscrewed the lid and scooped out a glob of white goo. He hunched over the edge of the tub as Hermione held her arm out. Snape slowly peeled the soiled bandages away and Hermione saw it. _Mudbood_. Red and angry, still bloody. She couldn’t suppress a gasp at the sight of it, nor could she tear her eyes away.

 

“Why hasn’t it healed yet?” Hermione looked at Snape, who clearly did not want to meet her eyes.

 

“Bellatrix used a cursed blade. I am afraid it will never go away, not completely,” Snape dabbed the paste over the cut gently, surprising Hermione. She could barely feel his touch. Once he covered the whole word in paste he replaced the bandage.

 

“I think I want that Dreamless Sleep now,” Hermione murmured. Snape raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He would have to watch out, make sure the girl didn’t do anything stupid like try to harm herself. _No. She’s too smart for that._ Snape grabbed the towel he laid out and motioned for her to stand. Her legs were a bit wobbly, but she was able to stand and step out of the tub, into the towel Snape held open for her. She wrapped it around her body, shivering as the cold air of the house hit her wet skin.

 

“You did not wash your hair,” Snape noticed. It was still covered in dirt and blood, and matted to her scalp.

 

“I don’t have the strength,” Hermione yawned and tiptoed out of the bathroom, back to her bedroom. _MY bedroom? I suppose it is my bedroom now._ “I wish I had some clothes,” she whispered as she got back under the quilt, towel and all.

 

“Ah. I managed to grab this while you were… unconscious,” Snape rummaged around in his pockets. Hermione could have hugged the man. He pulled her trusty beaded bag out of his deep pocket and held it out to her. “I did not know if it was important or not,” he said after noticing the smile and look of relief on Hermione’s face.

 

“It is. Thank you,” Hermione grabbed the bag and looped the strap around her wrist a few times. She was too exhausted to try and sort out her clothes. They were always tangled with Harry and Ron’s. Her heart beat funny at the thought of them. It was time for Dreamless Sleep. “May I have the purple one now?” Snape did not hesitate in giving her the potion. The minute her head hit the pillow, she was out.

 

Snape looked at the sleeping girl. She looked so peaceful. What was left of his heart ached for her and all she had been through. He would never tell her, though. He couldn’t let her in. It was better for her to hate him, to believe the worst of him. Once he was dead, she would be free, for there was no way he would survive this war. He didn’t want to survive. He didn’t deserve it. Snape left the room and went directly to his bedroom across the hall. It was small, smaller than the room Hermione was in. He sat on the edge of his childhood bed and unlaced the dragon hide boots he had been wearing for two days straight. Not bothering to undress further, Snape curled up and fell asleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

The room was bright. Too bright. Hermione shifted, giving up on getting any more sleep. _Should I wait for him to wake?_ Hermione smirked and stood up, working the kinks out of her neck. She looked down at her wrist and saw the little bag looped around it. She could’ve screamed, she was so happy. Immediately she started digging out something to wear. She shoved her whole arm into the bag, feeling the books and potions she had packed. She even felt Headmaster Black’s portrait. _He’s probably very angry with me._ She giggled at the thought.

 

Eventually she felt clothes, and pulled out an old Gryffindor Quidditch jumper of Ron’s. She held it to her nose and sniffed. It smelled like him. She didn’t hesitate in throwing it on, over her tangled hair. With a little more digging she found a pair of clean knickers, her favorite denims, and even a pair of thick socks that had belonged to her father. Most of her wardrobe consisted of jumpers and ratty t-shirts belonging to her father. She stole a few articles of his clothing before wiping her parent’s memories. In case she never saw them again, she wanted to have something that reminded her of the wonderful times they had. She would give anything to hug them one last time.

 

After dressing, Hermione grabbed her toothbrush from the beaded bag and headed to the bathroom. Once done with her morning ablutions, she quietly tiptoed down the small staircase at the end of the hall. She was greeted with a living room covered in bookshelves, from floor to ceiling. Her fingers twitched, wanting to run along the spines of the hundreds of books. There was a fireplace and a couch that looked as if it had seen better days. A worn leather chair was in the corner. _This is probably where he sits._ The house didn’t feel warm and cozy as her parent’s house did, or as the Burrow does. Like the upstairs, the living room could use a good cleaning. _Maybe he will let me do it. It’s not like I have anything else to occupy my time with._

Hermione’s exploration led her to the kitchen where she was greeted with the sight of Severus Snape standing over the stove, cooking eggs. He was still wearing his frock coat, buttoned up to the neck, and those heavy boots. His hair looked like it needed a good wash and his face had the slightest hint of stubble. The minute Hermione entered the room, the spy turned and looked at her.

 

“Good morning,” Hermione said, awkward as she stood in the doorway.

 

“I cooked enough for two. You need to eat,” Snape plated their food and brought it to a small table by the kitchen window. Hermione took a seat and waited politely for Snape to take the seat across from her before digging in. _Fuck, I’m hungry. How long has it been since I had eggs?_ Hermione didn’t even like eggs all that much, but these tasted like pure heaven. She practically inhaled them.

 

“Slow down, Granger, before you choke,” Snape chided. Hermione forced herself to take smaller bites. “You were starting to eat like that red headed oaf you call a friend,” Hermione’s eyes jerked up to his at the mention of Ron. She smiled softly.

 

“Professor,” Hermione started.

 

“I am not your Professor anymore, Granger,” Snape pushed the rest of his eggs around the plate.

 

“Sir, what are you planning on doing with me? Am I just to stay here until the end? Who knows when that’ll be,” Hermione folded her arms in front of her.

 

“Not feeling useful, are we?”

 

“Frankly, no. You may enjoy being holed up in this house, but I most certainly do not. I will drive myself mad,” she was already going crazy. How was she supposed to sit here while Harry and Ron were out hunting for Horcruxes?

 

Snape shot her a hateful look. _Doesn’t this girl understand that I will die if she runs off? I still have to help Potter, it would do no good for me to die now._ Dumbledore’s plan had not worked accordingly. The Dark Lord had insisted on closing Hogwarts completely, which was probably for the best. Snape had to sneak back in to the castle to meet with the old coot’s portrait and make sure he was still of use, since he was not Headmaster. Most students had gone into hiding with their parents, others were openly supporting the Dark Lord’s regime. It was too dangerous not to.

 

“It is your own fault you are in this situation,” Snape growled.

 

“Are you saying I asked for this to happen?” Hermione leaned across the table, her magic starting to crackle.

 

“You were the only chance Potter had at succeeding! How is that boy supposed to save mankind without you?” Snape was practically shouting. Hermione was about to fire back, when she stopped. _He sounds as if he’s upset. Like he WANTS Harry to succeed._ And then it hit her.

 

_He’s still on our side._


	3. Revelations

  _He’s still on our side! Yes!_

 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Snape watched the girl as she seemed to make some sort of revelation. She went from being ready to throttle him to smiling, and it scared him.

 

“Dumbledore wanted you to do it, didn’t he?”

 

It was as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. _She knows. She figured it out._ Part of him was relieved to have someone share the burden of this secret. Another tiny, tiny part of himself was also glad there was someone in this world who did not believe the worst of him. After the joy and elation passed, fear kicked in. _Can she keep her mind safe?_ Snape was on his feet and looming over her in seconds. He drew his wand and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

 

“ _Legilimens,”_

 

He could feel the anxiety and fear and doubt running through her brain. He couldn’t even get a good look before she slammed her shields down and ejected him. He staggered back, surprised.

 

“Where in the bloody hell did you learn to do that, Granger?”

 

“Sirius had a rather large collection of Occlumency books at Grimmauld Place and I was bored,” she shrugged.

 

Of course, she would just learn Occlumency because she was bored. What a Hermione Granger thing to do.

 

“Why did you do that, just now?” Hermione asked, hesitating.

 

“I had to make sure,” Snape muttered. He sat back down in the chair across from Hermione, rubbing his temples. _Did she have to be so rough kicking him out?_

 

“Not even You-Know-Who himself was able to access my thoughts. If he were, we wouldn’t be here right now,”

 

“The Dark Lord was not able to penetrate your shields?”

 

“Er, no. He tried, though,” she rubbed her forehead, remembering the force he had used. “Does this mean you’ll tell me what happened between you and Dumbledore? What Harry said just didn’t make any sense.”

 

“Potter was not lying. I did kill Dumbledore, although there is more to the story. The curse on his hand…”

 

“It was killing him, wasn’t it? It was spreading and it was going to kill him,” Hermione stood and started pacing the small kitchen. It all made sense now. “When you killed him, it confirmed your place by You-Know-Who’s side. And saved Draco’s soul.”

 

“Yes, you just have everything figured out, don’t you?” Snape sneered. He was irritated. How could someone so easily put all the pieces together?

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“I suppose,”

 

“When I was at the Malfoy’s...” Hermione trailed off and dropped her eyes.

 

“Yes?”

 

“There was nothing you could do to stop them, was there?”

 

Snape froze. _She remembers seeing me._

 

“No, Granger, there wasn’t.”

 

“It’s alright. I understand now.”

 

Snape rolled his eyes. She was such a Gryffindor, always willing to see the good in people.

 

“I’m assuming now is a good time to talk about the horcruxes?” Hermione saw Snape’s features twist into a horrified expression. _Oh. He didn’t know._

 

“Horcruxes? Plural?” He was about to choke. That was what the Dark Lord had been hiding in Bellatrix’s vault! How the fuck was Potter and _Weasley_ of all people supposed to hunt down the rest?

 

“Yes,”

 

“How many?”

 

“Six. We destroyed the locket already and Harry had destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary in second year. Dumbledore destroyed the ring…”

 

“The ring is what cursed him.”

 

“No! How could that happen?” Hermione was baffled.

 

“The old fool put it on. The minute he slid it onto his finger, it cursed him.”

 

Hermione shook her head. How could he be so stupid? If he suspected it to be a cursed object, why would he put it on his finger? She had always thought of Dumbledore as some kind of God. He was mighty and powerful and all-knowing. He didn’t make mistakes. But he was human, just like the rest of them, and unable to resist the temptation.

 

“We wore the locket around our necks for weeks before we got the sword,” Hermione was puzzled. How interesting that neither of them were cursed. “Well, it did alter our moods. Ronald was more susceptible to it than Harry and I.”

 

“Which explains his hissy fit and running off. Yes, Granger, I know all about it. Who do you think brought you the sword?”

 

“That was you? Merlin, I had no clue. All this time we were hating you when you were the only person helping us,” Hermione suddenly felt awful. He really was a good man and the world would likely never know.

 

“What are the remaining horcruxes?” The Dark Lord had been acting different for a while now. Snape picked up on the subtle changes in the paranoid tyrant’s behavior. He received fewer summons as of late, and when he was summoned it was usually nothing too important. Something else always had the Dark Lord’s attention.

 

“Whatever is in Bellatrix’s vault, for sure. Something belonging to Ravenclaw, and the snake.”

 

That bloody snake. Snape knew it wasn’t a normal snake. It was too… _human._ Not to mention the Dark Lord was overly protective of the damn thing, he practically never let it out of his sight. He shivered as he remembered it devouring Charity Burbage whole.

 

“Do you honestly think Potter will be able to find and destroy them without you?”

 

“He doesn’t have a choice.”  

 

Snape and Hermione sat across from each other, cold eggs in front of them, trying to hold on to that last little glimmer of hope.

 

* * *

 

 Ronald Weasley had no hope. His girl was dead, lost to a countless number of Death Eaters in Malfoy Manor. Once he and Harry arrived at Shell Cottage, Ron immediately went upstairs and shut himself in the nearest bedroom. He refused to eat, to talk. He was a zombie, the grief threatening to overtake him completely.

 

Harry knocked gently on the door. He cracked it open when he got no answer. Ron was curled up in a ball on the bed, like usual.

 

“Ron? You awake?”

 

“Go away, Harry.”

 

“C’mon, there’s food downstairs. Fleur cooked.” Food didn’t even appeal to him at the moment.

 

“I don’t want it.”

 

Harry sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. He knew how bad Ron missed her, he knew how much he loved her. He felt the same way for Ginny.

 

“I miss her too, you know. I miss her nagging and her planning. I miss her books and how she would get so wrapped up in her work she’d forget to eat. I miss her hair.” Ron cracked a smile.

 

“Harry, I never told her that I loved her.”

 

“She knew.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“We have to keep going, Ron. We’re too close to give up now. You have your family, your parents. There’s so much left to fight for. Not to mention Hermione would come back and haunt us if we gave up now,” Harry smirked at the thought.

 

Ron sighed and picked himself up. Harry was right. There would be time to mope and grieve after they won this bloody war.

 

“What’s next, then?”

 

“We have to get into Bellatrix’s vault. There’s something in there.”

 

“How the hell are we supposed to do that, Harry?”

 

“That’s where Griphook comes in.”

 

* * *

 

 

Snape led Hermione into the living room. He watched as her eyes were immediately drawn to his books. He couldn’t help but smirk.

“Careful, Granger.”

 

“Sorry,” she blushed. “Do you think I could… that is…”

 

“You may read whatever you wish, except for tomes on this shelf.”

 

He pointed to a center shelf containing what looked like basic required reading for Hogwarts. She didn’t even care that those harmless books were off limits because he had such a massive collection. Hermione walked over to one of the tall bookcases and took a deep breath. She loved the smell of books, the feel of them. Surprisingly, Snape had a large number of Muggle books. She plucked a worn copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ off its shelf and flipped through.

 

“I wouldn’t take you for an Austen fan, Professor,” Hermione teased gently.

 

“I read many things, Miss Granger,” his voice was dark and velvety

 

“Where did you get the Muggle literature?”

 

“Most are secondhand. There used to be a library not far from here. They shut down years ago, and gave away their supply.”

 

“I love secondhand books. I find it fun to imagine who used to own them, don’t you?”

 

“Indeed.” He picked his own book and sat down in the worn leather chair in the corner. The pair read in silent for hours. Snape would summon tea and biscuits every so often and Hermione eventually curled up on the couch, propping her feet up.

 

Snape had to admit, she wasn’t nearly as annoying as she had been in school. She had always been mature, but now she was different. This girl had been through more than most adults could handle and she still came out on top. Here she was, three days after being brutalized, reading a fucking book like nothing had happened. He genuinely admired her strength, even if her Gryffindorish behavior irked him.

 

Blinking hard, he peeled his eyes away from the small text of his book and glanced at Hermione. She was fast asleep, her book face down on her stomach. Snape checked the time, and decided it was time to fix dinner. This is what their new routine would be like. They would wake up, eat breakfast, and read all day. What else was there to do? _Maybe I could show her the lab. Where did that thought come from?_ The basement lab was his sacred place. He never let anyone down there, not that he ever had any guests. Even at Hogwarts, his personal lab was for experimenting and brewing by himself. He enjoyed his solitude more than anything… or did he?

 

Hermione stirred and woke to find Severus Snape’s eyes on her. She smiled at him.

 

“How long was I asleep?”

“A few hours. Your body is still recovering.”

 

Hermione’s smile drooped at that. _How could I forget?_ She felt better than she had. Her bones still ached and her head felt fuzzy at times, most likely due to being under the _Cruciatus_ for an extended period of time.

 

“Dinner and then more potions,” Snape murmured and went to stand.

 

“Do you think I could take a bath before we eat? I feel fine, really.” She stood and stretched her aching muscles. Snape looked at her suspiciously.

 

“If you are not back down here in twenty minutes, so help me Granger, I will go and get you myself.”

 

“Thanks!” Before he could even say anything, she was up the stairs. Snape shook his head and stalked off to the kitchen to try and find something to put together.

 

BREAK BREAK BREAK BREAK

 

Hermione turned the taps on the ancient tub. Gods, she missed magic. She missed her wand, feeling the magic thrum in her bones, channeling it through that beautiful piece of vine wood. Snape had left the soap and flannel out from yesterday, thank goodness. Once the tub was full she stripped off Ron’s jumper and her denims and climbed in. The water felt heavenly against her cool skin.

 

This bath was the only place she could cry undisturbed, where she didn’t feel like a child for having a good cry. She buried her head in her hands and let out all of her frustration and fears and pain. Snape would never understand. She had no one to turn to, no one to talk to. The loneliness was killing her. _No. I’m stronger than this. I’m sitting here weeping when Harry and Ron are alone._

 

Hermione shook her head and wiped away her tears. Now is a good time to tackle the problem that is her hair. She reached up and felt the many knots and tangles and cringed, immediately ducking her head under the soapy water. It took a while but she managed to get most of the grime out. She would have to ask the Professor to magically untangle it for her. For the first time, since she was eleven years old, Hermione was unable to do magic.

 

 

* * *

 

Snape searched the cabinets for anything he could throw in a pot and be done with. Years of living at Hogwarts meant he hardly kept his pantry stocked. Even in his youth, after his parents died, he survived on cheap Muggle liquor and cigarettes. Lucius used to turn his lip up and sneer about his “filthy Muggle habits”. That was back when things were easy. He felt his heart beat funny at the thought of Lily. _Oh, Lily. What have I gotten myself into?_ He hadn’t felt so unwelcome in his own home since he was a child and it was all because of Hermione Granger.

 

He found a box of pasta, probably expired, and a can of sauce in the back of his cupboard. _I’ll probably have to get more food. Surely the girl is used to eating more than I._ He filled a pot with water and got it on the stove to boil instead of using magic to heat the water. Sometimes he enjoyed doing things the Muggle way.

 

* * *

 

 Hermione dressed in a set of her father’s old sweats and headed downstairs. _I hope he’s not offended at my choice of clothing._ Was Snape one of those people who insisted on being properly dressed for dinner? She hoped not. She was exhausted and damn it, she wanted to be comfortable. Once downstairs, she was confronted with the sight of Snape serving food.

 

“I hope you don’t mind I’m wearing pajamas,” Hermione cleared her throat.

 

“Dinner is not a formal affair in this house,” Snape smirked.

 

 _Is he being playful?_ Hermione was almost too stunned to walk. Snape was being a totally different person.

 

“You’ve changed, sir,” she ventured, sitting in her seat at the table. Snape raised an eyebrow.

 

“Have I?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded. He brought over two bowls of pasta and passed one to Hermione.

 

“Wine?”

 

“Please.”

 

How surreal. She was in Severus Snape’s kitchen, in her pajamas, drinking wine.

 

“Have you always lived here, Professor?” Hermione felt the need to push her luck and see how much he would be willing to divulge about his personal life. She had always found the lives of her teachers fascinating, even when she was in primary school.

 

“Yes, I have always lived here,” he said as he poured two glasses of rich red wine. If they couldn’t eat good, at least they could drink.

 

“And your parents?” She ventured.

 

Where was the girl going with this? Anyone who knew him knew that there were few topics off limits, his parents and Lily being the main two.

 

“I am not interested in having this conversation with you, Granger. It is none of your concern,” he sneered, his features darkening.

 

Hermione sighed. _Well, at least I tried._ She dug into her pasta with gusto, while Snape merely picked at his. No wonder he was so thin. He hardly ever ate.

 

Snape was surprised the girl didn’t laugh in his face when he presented her with this slop in a bowl. As with her disappointing breakfast, she didn’t seem to mind at all. However, her slurping noises were starting to grate on his nerves.

 

“Granger, stop with the obnoxious slurping before I put you outside,” Snape raised his eyebrows as he took a large sip of wine. Hermione immediately dropped her fork and cast her eyes down. _Oh, fucking hell._

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I guess after months of being with the boys I picked up their bad habits,” Hermione apologized.

 

“It is fine, Granger.” And that was the end of their conversation.

 

* * *

 

 Granger insisted on helping wash the dishes, much to Snape’s chagrin. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with a good book and a bottle of wine.

 

“Why is it that you always cook the Muggle way? I mean, Molly Weasley is able to cook more efficiently when she uses her wand,” Hermione babbled, unable to hold the question any longer.

 

“Thank you for the comparison,” Snape growled.

 

Hermione blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,”

 

“I find using magic is unnecessary when I am only cooking for myself,” Snape replied, waving his hand.

 

“Speaking of using magic, I have a favor to ask,” Hermione dried her hands. _Here goes nothing._

 

“Yes, because saving your life simply wasn’t enough,”

 

She rolled her eyes. Must he always bring that up?

 

“Could you detangle my hair? I don’t think I could do it myself by hand and the only other option is shaving my head,” she felt small and pitiful. This should be something she could do for herself. There was nothing worse than having to depend on others.

 

Snape sighed. The faster he got this done, the sooner Granger would be in bed and out of his hair. “Turn around,” he motioned for her to spin. With a flick of his wand her hair began to untangle itself. It still felt disgusting when she ran a hand through it, nothing another wash couldn’t fix.

 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be going to bed now. Goodnight.” She smiled at him and left the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 After sucking down the remainder of the bottle, Snape decided it was time to head upstairs and get ready for bed. He pulled out his trusty gray night shirt and tossed it over his head. Just as he was about to pull the covers over his tired body, he heard a thud. His head popped up. Maybe he was just hearing things. Still, he had better go check.

 

He creeped down the hall, his wand held steady in his hand, and saw nothing. _I better check on Granger._ He debated on knocking, but chose to simply open the door. This was his house after all. It was a good thing he did, for Hermione was on the ground, seizing. He flew over to her, conjuring a wooden spoon and shoving it between her teeth. He climbed on top of her, stretching her limbs and rubbing her tense muscles.

 

“C’mon Granger,” he whispered.

 

Eventually her sweat soaked body relaxed. Snape exhaled and sat back on his heels. This was the second seizure the girl had since he brought her here almost four days ago. The first had been a terrifying experience. Snape himself had experienced them in the past when he was young, and his body was not used to the _Cruciatus_. He had never witnessed someone else having a seizure. He hadn’t even told Granger she had suffered one upon her arrival. He did not think it would happen again. 

 

He hoisted her unconscious form into his arms and deposited her on the bed. He took a seat in the chair he had occupied a little over twenty-four hours ago. So much for getting a good night’s sleep.

 

 


	4. Should Have Known Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the reviews! I'm trying not to rush through this story, as I want to make it realistic. They're both stubborn people and I feel like it would take a while for them to accept their feelings toward each other.

Hermione groaned and rubbed her eyes. _What happened to me?_ She felt drained, every movement hurt. Her eyes focused on the dark figure in the corner. Snape was sitting in that chair by her bed, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He was snoring softly and seemed to be wearing his night clothes. _That’s really what he wears to bed?_

After the initial shock wore off, she settled back down. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, all of the hard lines on his face disappearing. Hermione took this time to really get a good look at the wizard. His hair was still oily, though that was probably due to genetics. His skin was smooth but he had dark circles around his eyes. His hands were large, but not too large. His fingers were long.

 

Snape felt her eyes on him before he was even fully awake. He slowly cracked an eye open and saw Granger staring at him. She jumped and tried to look at the floor, but her blush gave her away.

 

“Staring, Granger?”

 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “What happened?”

 

“You had a seizure,” Snape sighed.

 

“A seizure? But I’ve never had a seizure!” Hermione was confused. Why now would she be having seizures?

 

“You have, actually. When you first arrived. It was minor, so I believed it to be a one-time occurrence,” Snape explained.

 

“Yes, well, you were wrong about that, weren’t you?” Hermione sneered. He couldn’t blame her, really. He should have known better. After all, he had firsthand experience with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus.

 

“I was not there when you were tortured by Bellatrix, how was I to know how severe it was?” Snape shot back. Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

“Could it have been the alcohol?” she asked him, her eyes big. Even after her first sip, she began to feel dizzy, which was completely out of the norm. Hermione could handle her liquor. She had built up a tolerance over the years, as her parents were drinkers.

 

“It is possible that the alcohol may have mixed badly with one of the healing potions I gave you whilst you were unconscious, but it is unlikely,” Snape frowned. Was this his fault? “Would you mind if I cast a diagnostic charm?”

 

Hermione shook her head and pushed the quilt down. Snape hovered over her, moving his wand in a way she had only seen Madam Pomfrey do. _Hmm, he must have experience with this sort of thing._ Her eyes flicked toward his when she heard a grunt.

 

“It is as I thought. The extended exposure to the _Cruciatus_ has damaged the myelin sheath surrounding your nerves,” he explained. Hermione didn’t even comprehend what he said because she was so shocked he knew that much about anatomy. _Well I suppose it would make sense, Potions and Healing sort of go hand in hand…_

“Granger?”

 

“Sorry. I’m listening.”

 

“As I was saying,” he rolled his eyes. “You will continue to suffer from seizures if we do not fix the damage.”

 

“And how do we do that?”

 

“With a potion, of course.”

 

“Which potion?”

 

“One of my own creation,” he replied. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. The man was truly brilliant. “However, I do not currently have any. I would have to brew a fresh batch.”

 

“Could I help you? Please, sir! I won’t be in the way, I swear!” Hermione was practically hanging off the edge of the bed, her big eyes staring up at him, pleading with him.

 

“I suppose,” he replied. For some reason, he didn’t have it in him to tell the girl no while she was looking at him like that. “Get back in bed.”

 

Hermione obeyed and scooted herself off the edge. It was then she realized just how disgusting she felt.

 

“Sir, do you think I could go to the loo and freshen up? I feel sticky,” she rubbed her slightly sweaty forehead.

 

“You should not be up. I will cast a cleansing charm,” he slipped his wand out of his sleeve once more and cast the gentlest cleansing charm he could think of. Hermione immediately felt refreshed and relaxed.

 

“That charm is used on newborn babies,” she smiled at him. He looked as if he were ready to bolt, but instead he held out a purple vial. She swallowed the contents without an argument and drifted off to sleep, happy that she was starting to see past his façade.

* * *

Once she was recovered enough, they began work on the Nerve Restoration Potion, as Snape liked to think of it. Granger just about died when he told her that there was a fully functioning lab in the basement. She had hopped out of bed, too excited to think about her injuries, and requested to see it.

 

Hermione had never seen anything like it. It was pristine, kept as clean as his classroom at Hogwarts. There were thick, expensive looking tabletops, made of some sort of metal, and too many cauldrons to count. They ranged from the standard Hogwarts fare, to the more expensive, and luxurious. He even had shelving, containing almost any ingredient Hermione could think of.

 

Snape felt a weird sense of pride when looking at the girl, and the awe on her face. He knew how impressive the lab was, he had spent years amassing his collections of ingredients, books, and cauldrons. He was partially glad to have someone to share it all with, someone who would also appreciate the art that was potion making.

 

“Where do we begin, sir?” Hermione asked, still peeking around his lab.

 

“My notes and instructions are here,” he passed her a couple feet of parchment. She read through it, her eyes rapidly scanning the page.

 

“It’s brilliant. How did you know to add the Belladonna and Boomslang Skin? Wouldn’t they cause a negative reaction if mixed together?” she wondered aloud.

 

“That is why I add the Belladonna first and give the potion a chance to simmer before adding the Boomslang Skin.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He lifted a large copper cauldron onto the burner and added the first few ingredients. Hermione stood back, watching over his shoulder as he worked. All of his movements were perfectly in sync, everything came natural to him.

 

“Come here, Granger,” Hermione practically flew to his side. “Here, follow my next instructions. All of the ingredients are on the shelf.” He handed her his stirring rod and she took his place.

 

They meshed instantly, Snape showing the girl his techniques and letting her take the reins, which she was all too happy to do. It had been too long since she had been able to brew anything for fun. Surprisingly enough, she was able to follow his instructions exactly and they worked well together. Quietly, but well.

 

Days passed and they fell into a sort of routine. Once they finished with the Nerve Potion, and Hermione was not at risk of seizures, they would often brew together just for fun. They would have heated intellectual arguments over stirring techniques, and when to take the cauldron off the heat and let it cool. Many times, their fights ended with Snape calling her stubborn and storming out, only to return later with a pot of tea and a scowl on his face. She had stopped being so afraid of him and finally got to see a bit of the man, not the professor.

 

When they were not brewing in that tiny basement lab, they would simply sit in their respective seats, and read. Snape found that Granger enjoyed silence as much as he did. She also enjoyed the sad dinners he would cook. He was always nervous to cook for her, he believed that she would be like everyone else and laugh at his shortcomings, but she never did. She would accept whatever slop he gave her with a smile. She even offered to cook, which would always turn into a disaster. As it turns out, cooking was one of the few things Hermione Granger did not excel at.

 

It was easy to forget there was a war going on outside, that their little bubble could be popped at any moment. He was hard pressed to care. For the first time in a long time, Severus Snape was almost content.

 

* * *

 

 One evening in mid-March, the pair were in the living room, reading as they always did in the evenings, when Snape’s mark began to burn. He hissed and dropped the book, causing Hermione to jump. She saw him clutching his forearm and automatically knew what it was. _He was going to see Voldemort._

 

Snape summoned his robes and mask, and was at the door within seconds.

 

“Wait!” Hermione jumped up. Snape turned slowly, apprehensively. “Please be careful,” she whispered. Snape blinked in shock and nodded his head at the scared witch.

 

“I will try,” he promised. And then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 “You are all _idiots_!” The Dark Lord screamed, lashing out with his magic and killing a few nameless men in masks. “How is it that you are constantly outsmarted by a child? Bellatrix!”

 

Bellatrix whimpered and stepped forward. _Here we go,_ Snape thought.

 

“Y-yes, my Lord?” she stammered.

 

“My dear, dear Bellatrix. You have failed me,” Voldemort slid his scaly fingers along her cheek. As terrified as she was, Bellatrix could not help but lean in to his touch, like an obedient lapdog. “I trusted you above all others. And look where that has gotten me,” he taunted. “Potter was able to break in to your vault and take one of my most prized possessions, and where were you, hmm? Answer me!”

 

Bellatrix flinched and cried out. One slice of his wand and she was on the ground, bleeding profusely. Snape smiled behind his mask. _This is exactly what the crazy bitch deserves. A slow and painful death._

 

“You are no better than your disappointment of a sister,” the Dark Lord whispered and her bleeding form. It was the worst thing he could have ever said to her. “Rodolphus! Tend to your wife. You are all dismissed!”

 

_Damn._ Snape thought for sure Bellatrix would be killed this time. He had never been happier to be summoned, for he learned the news of Potter and Weasley’s breaking into Gringotts. _Hermione will be thrilled._

Hermione? Since when had he started thinking of her as Hermione? This was not good.

 

* * *

 

 Hermione paced the living room, waiting to hear the telltale sound of Snape’s arrival outside. She knew that there was a possibility of him being summoned at any given moment, but reality was scarier than her imagination. She did not anticipate such feelings of dread as he walked out of that door. Severus Snape had quickly become everything to her, it was as if he was all she had left. She did not have Harry or Ronald anymore. She did not have her parents. All she had was him. If he died, she would truly have nothing. Where would she go? Could she even track the boys down? The odds were slim.

 

Her chest hurt at the thought of Snape being injured. He did not deserve any more pain, she was sure he had suffered enough in his thirty-seven years of life. He never said as much, but she could tell. Whenever she broached the subject of his time as a student or his childhood, he would tense up. She also noticed that he still slept in his childhood bedroom, and she presumably, slept in his parent’s room. Sometimes she would glance at him and he would be staring out of the window, looking at the rain fall, his features tinged with a sadness so intense, Hermione’s heart broke for him.

 

The boys could never understand. When they looked at Severus Snape, all they saw was the greasy git that tormented them when they were children. There was no way they could look past his flaws the way Hermione had. It was crazy how fast her attitude toward him had changed. They barely even talked to each other about personal things, but she had gotten used to his quiet, brooding presence by her side. He was easy to be around.

 

Hermione sighed and stopped her pacing. He had been gone for an hour. Maybe she should go to bed and try to take her mind off of things…

 

Hermione walked up the stairs to her bedroom and locked the door. This was the first time Snape had been summoned since he brought her to his home. The house felt darker than usual. It felt empty. Luckily, he had left a purple vial on the nightstand. She swallowed it down and fell into a restless sleep.

 

* * *

 

 Three hours later, Snape Apparated directly onto his front porch. His Muggle neighbors were used to seeing odd things, and he was exhausted. He opened the door, expecting to see a certain curly haired witch on the couch, but she was not there.

 

He hadn’t been in the house five seconds when he heard a bloodcurdling scream from upstairs. He took the steps two at a time and wiggled the doorknob to Hermione’s bedroom. With a quick _Alohomora_ he was inside. Hermione was thrashing around on the bed, in the midst of a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

 She was back at that awful place. Dolohov cackled while Bellatrix held the cursed knife to the soft flesh of Hermione’s throat. She wanted to scream, to tell them to get off of her, but she couldn’t. Their disgusting hands were all over her, holding her in place.

 

Snape appeared, sneering off to the side, watching with his arms crossed. She tried to reach out for him, but he turned away. _No! Come back! Don’t leave me here again!_

 

Suddenly, everything changed. Snape was alone, on his knees, in front of the Dark Lord. He looked to be begging, pleading with the evil wizard for mercy, but it did not matter. The burst of green light hit him square in his chest. Hermione couldn’t get to him. She screamed and cried, but no one heard her.

 

* * *

 

 “Granger! Wake up!” Snape shook Hermione, almost violently, but the girl would not wake. Tears were streaming down her face and she kept jerking away. He grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. He noticed how light she felt. Months on the run definitely took a toll on her body.

 

“Granger! _Hermione!_ ” he shouted.

 

It did the trick. Hermione’s eyes popped open at the sound of her first name on his tongue. All she was confronted with were his black, heavy Death Eater robes. _Gods, they’ve found me._ She struggled to get free of his grasp, thinking he was there to drag her back to Malfoy Manor.

 

Snape immediately released his grip and she fell back onto the mattress. He swished his wand and the room filled with light.

 

“Granger, it’s me,” he said softly. _Fuck, it’s the robes. I forgot to take them off, no wonder she’s so bloody scared._ He quickly divested himself of the robes, leaving him in his usual frock coat.

 

At the deep sound of his voice, Hermione snapped out of it. Her watery eyes met his and she felt calm. She felt safe.

 

“You’re back,” she couldn’t control the flow of her tears. The nightmare had been so real. Her heart was still pounding from the intensity of it all. She had just seen him die, and here he was in front of her, with concern in his eyes.

 

“Yes. I have to admit, I thought you would be awake and waiting,” Snape couldn’t believe he just said that. He could feel his cheeks burning, but Hermione didn’t notice. She was just happy he was alive.

 

“I took Dreamless Sleep, I don’t understand…” she trailed off. The whole point of taking the potion was to get one night of decent sleep. Why must everything be so difficult? All she wanted to do was tune the entire world out, to not pay attention to her anxiety anymore. The worry over Snape’s summons was almost crippling. Anything could happen to him and she felt powerless to stop it. She felt worthless. The bad thoughts followed her even when she was sleeping, bleeding into her subconscious.

 

“It has the same effect on me as well. The dreams evade you but the nightmares remain. What was yours about, if you don’t mind my asking?” Snape genuinely wondered what had the girl so rattled. He sat down in his usual chair across from her bed, not leaving until he heard the story.

 

Hermione blushed. She debated not telling him, but was compelled to be honest. She had never been a good liar, especially with her professors.

 

“I was there again,” Hermione started. Snape’s face fell. “She… Bellatrix had me. And Dolohov. And the others…” she choked.

 

Snape sighed. He knew this would happen, that she would crack at some point. The past week had been telling. She never cried in front of him. She always smiled, but it never touched her eyes. It was only because of his own traumatic life that he could see past the front she had so carefully crafted.

 

“Here,” he passed her a vial and she drank the contents without protest.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 

“Don’t apologize,” he waved his hand.

 

“You died. In my nightmare. He killed you and I watched him do it,” her eyes started watering again.

 

Snape was baffled. _Why would she care if I died?_ Nobody else did, and he had accepted that fact a long time ago. He had driven away the only person who cared years before Granger was even born. Dumbledore was a disappointment in every sense of the word. Even his own parents had despised him.

 

“Why would you care?” he asked before he could stop himself.

 

“Because you saved my life. Because you’re a good person.”

 

Snape laughed a dry laugh.

 

“A good man would not be in the positon I am in. You would be appalled if you knew half of what I’ve done to keep my cover,” he sneered.

 

Hermione was not naïve. Of course he was forced to do awful things, he was a spy. It’s basically in the job description.

 

“Enough with the self-deprecation. I am not ignorant enough to believe you have no blood on your hands. We all do. We’re in the middle of a bloody war!”

 

“You know _nothing,_ ” he was seething in anger. How dare she?

 

“Really? I was raped and tortured for hours by those monsters. I may not know everything, but I know what I’ve been through and I can only imagine the horrors you’ve participated in. Do not insult my intelligence,” she spat. It was the first time they had directly addressed this rather large elephant in the room. Hermione had been afraid speaking it out loud would only make it feel real, but it was as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

 

What could he say to that? She was right. She had firsthand experience with their depravity.

 

“You’re not perfect. Nobody is. But a bad man would not have saved my life and nursed me back to health. There is nothing you can say to change my mind,” she shrugged. It was that simple.

 

“Foolish Gryffindor,” he stood, preparing to leave. She panicked and her hand shot out, her fingers locking onto his.

 

“Don’t go. Please,” her cinnamon eyes searched his. “I sleep so well when you’re here.”

 

He sighed and sat back down. His fingers still tingled from her touch. It took everything in him to let her hand go. _Am I that hungry for comfort?_

 

“Sleep, Granger,” he murmured, dousing the lights with his wand.

 

“You called me Hermione earlier,” she whispered, her eyes falling shut. “I liked it.”

 

She fell asleep, knowing the dour wizard beside her bed would keep her safe.


	5. Fix You

 

The following morning, over a breakfast of toast and black tea, Snape told Hermione about Potter and Weasley’s break in. Hermione’s dry toast hit the plate with a clatter.

 

“They did _what?!_ ” she yelled. How could the boys be so reckless? It was important for them to fly under the radar, breaking in to Gringotts and escaping on the back of a dragon was hardly discreet.

 

“Don’t fear, your miscreant friends managed to steal whatever was in Bellatrix’s vault and escape unscathed. Somewhat.” Snape smirked, flipping through the Daily Prophet.

 

Hermione slumped in her seat. The boys actually did it. They got Hufflepuff’s Cup, leaving only a few Horcruxes left. _And they managed to do it all without you,_ a small voice in her head mocked.

 

Snape noticed how the girl became withdrawn at the mention of Potter’s success. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Granger…”

 

“Couldn’t you call me by my first name?” she asked.

 

Snape ignored her. “I have to admit, I was surprised they had the brains to pull this off. Although, they didn’t exactly go in quietly. Gryffindors,” he sneered, turning back to his paper.

 

“Do you know where they are now?”

 

“No,” the portrait of Headmaster Black was still in Hermione’s beaded bag, unable to spy on Potter and Weasley.

“I hope they’re alright,” Hermione murmured. The boys could be hurt, and she would have no clue. Ron being splinched came to mind. Would Harry know to apply dittany? Would they even have any? Hermione had all of their potions, all of their clothes. The thought made her stomach turn and lurch. A wave of nausea suddenly overcame her.

 

“Are you alright, Granger? You’re looking green,” Snape asked, pulling out his wand to do a diagnostic charm. He was too late, for Hermione bolted from her seat and started retching in the kitchen sink.

 

Hermione vomited until there was nothing left in her sour stomach. Only when she finished did she notice Snape holding her hair back. He pressed a cool flannel into her hand and she wiped her mouth. _Maybe it was the toast._ Although she had always eaten dry toast and it never messed with her stomach. What else could it be? _Oh no…_

 

“You don’t… I couldn’t be…” Hermione stumbled over her words. She sank to the floor, Snape followed.

 

“Spit it out, girl.”

 

“Pregnant?” she was already beginning to hyperventilate. Snape averted his eyes.

 

“Forgive me. I should have told you. Among the many potions I gave you whilst you were unconscious, there was a contraceptive. I felt it necessary to give you a dose instead of waiting to get your permission when you woke,” he explained.

 

“Oh, thank god.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t even think about asking for one, there were too many thoughts running through her mind. _How could I be so reckless?_ The thought made her want to cry. She remembered her nightmare from a few days prior, and her subsequent meltdown. _He cannot see me like that ever again. I cannot show weakness._

 

“I’m going to take a bath,” Hermione said before bolting, leaving Snape crouching on the ground, alone.

 

* * *

 

 Hermione stayed away for most of the day, not even coming downstairs to eat or grab a cup of tea. Snape’s eyes kept shifting to the stairs, hoping she would come down to read as they normally did together. When he realized he had been on the same page for twenty minutes he threw the book down, running a hand through his oily hair. _Should I go check on her?_ He honestly did not know what to do. Almost twenty years as a professor and head of house, dealing with emotional students, and he had no clue how to handle this situation. Hermione Granger was not like the rest of those airheads.

 

After another twenty minutes of deliberation, Snape found himself climbing the stairs and knocking on her door. When he received no answer, he cracked it open. The girl was under the heavy quilt, her body a lump in the double bed.

 

“Granger?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you planning on staying under there the whole evening?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Snape was at a loss. _Do I stay or do I leave?_ What he really wanted to do was pull her out of the quilted pile and drag her downstairs. There was something enjoyable about the being with the witch. She reminded him of the happier memories of his childhood, and of a certain red headed Muggleborn.

 

“I will be downstairs should you wish to join me,” Snape sighed before taking his leave.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sniffled under the quilt. A tiny part of her jumped at the idea Snape cared enough to check on her. She so desperately wanted to go downstairs and tell him that she was sorry, that she wanted to sit with him, but she couldn’t. Her scare this morning had only served to amplify every sad and stressful thought. _I could have been pregnant._ Just the idea of having any child, especially one fathered by a monster, was enough to send her head spinning. Was it really shocking to Snape that she would want to be alone?

 

 _Do I truly want to be alone?_ She didn’t even know anymore. Everything felt confused. At this moment, Hermione felt that she would have been better off being murdered at Malfoy Manor. Fuck, where did that thought come from? _You have to get it together, Granger. Harry and Ron will need you in the end._ With pictures of Harry and Ron’s smiling faces in her head, Hermione pulled herself out of bed.

 

* * *

 

 Snape heard Hermione before he saw her, the steps squeaked with every step she took. When she came into the living room, her hair was fuzzy and her eyes were bloodshot. She was wearing a ratty Gryffindor t-shirt and her scar was visible. It was the first time he had seen it since he replaced her bandage all those days ago, for she was now able to do it herself. Majority of the time the young witch wore long sleeved shirts, as the cut was still red and prone to bleeding. He had the slightest suspicion she was ashamed of it, as he was ashamed of his Dark Mark. It was ridiculous. He _chose_ to be branded, she did not.

 

Hermione moved awkwardly as Snape’s eyes shifted from her face to her clothes and back again. Oddly enough, she wasn’t repulsed. She almost enjoyed his dark, deep eyes on her, even though she looked less than perfect and had tear tracks on her cheeks.

 

“What are you reading?” she asked him, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

 

“ _Hogwarts: A History,_ ” Snape replied. Her lips twisted into something resembling a smile.

 

“One of my favorites. Which edition?”

 

“The latest,” Snape cleared his throat. Hermione’s whole face brightened.

 

“May I?” she reached and he passed her the book. She rubbed her fingers over the shimmery gold lettering on the cover. She couldn’t help but smile. He loved reading textbooks for pleasure just as much as she did.

 

Passing the book back to him, Hermione sat on the couch, close to the leather chair Snape occupied. It was weird for a moment, neither of them really knowing what to say to the other. Hermione traced the raised, red letters of Bellatrix’s handiwork.

 

“Is it painful?” he asked.

 

“Not so much,” Hermione shook her head. “I’ve decided to not let it bother me anymore. It’s here and it isn’t going away, there’s no use in trying to hide it. Not to mention I am already scarred,” she pulled down the neck of her shirt, showing a silvery line on her collarbone.

 

Snape knew she was trying valiantly to be strong, to convince herself she was alright with it. The girl didn’t have much of a choice.

 

“That is admirable of you, Granger.”

 

“Hermione.”

 

“It would not be appropriate.”

 

Hermione scoffed. “You’ve seen me naked, _sir._ I believe all hopes of maintaining a professional relationship are out of the window, not to mention you said my name the other day.”

 

“Well, that was a mistake.”

 

“It’s not as if I’m asking to call you Severus,” Hermione said before she could think. Snape stared at her, it was the first time he had heard her say his name. He found that he quite liked the sound of it. _Still, you old bastard, she is your student. Well, not anymore…_

 

“Yes, thank goodness for that,” Snape managed, once the shock wore off.

 

Hermione persisted. She folded her arms and scowled at him. “I am not a child. Why would it be so bad to refer to each other by our first names?”

 

“You won’t leave this alone, will you Granger?”

 

“Hermione,” she mouthed, smiling softly.

 

“Hermione,” Snape acquiesced.

 

 _Yes!_ Hermione was elated. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

 Fenrir Greyback could not stop thinking about Snape. Ever since he had jumped to dispose of the girl himself, the werewolf payed close attention to his behavior. Even after Dumbledore’s killing, Greyback still found the man untrustworthy. He could sniff bullshit from a mile away, and Snape was full of it. Why would the Dark Lord order him to kill the girl after he told Greyback he could have her? It did not add up. So, Greyback found himself in front of the Dark Lord, after requesting an audience with him.

 

“Greyback. You wished to see me?” the Dark Lord sneered, mocking the werewolf. He knew that Greyback could not stand being taunted or mocked, as he was an Alpha, the leader of his own pack. He was one of the few people, if you could even call him a person, that did not kneel before the Dark Lord.

 

“I have reason to believe Snape is not loyal to the cause,” he snarled.

 

“Oh?” the dark wizard chuckled. Surely, Greyback was mistaken. Severus was his most loyal follower.

 

“When I tried to eat Potter’s mudblood, Snape interfered. Said you told him to… _dispose_ of her,” Greyback said.

 

The Dark Lord’s face darkened, all traces of humor gone. The atmosphere of the Malfoy’s newly repaired drawing room had changed in an instant.

 

“I did no such thing,” he whispered. It was a deadly sound.

 

Greyback, however, was elated. He had to stop himself from running around the room like an energetic puppy.

 

“I knew the sleazy bastard just wanted her for himself,” Greyback smirked.

 

The Dark Lord held up his hand.

 

“I would still like to give my most trusted follower a chance to explain his actions. You will still be rewarded for your loyalty, Greyback. You may choose a prize from the cellar.”

 

Greyback licked his lips in anticipation. Neither of them noticed the blonde wizard, lurking in the shadows.

 

* * *

 

 On a cool, spring Friday night in March, Severus and Hermione were eating a takeaway dinner of fish and chips from a local pub. Hermione had mentioned how much she missed Madam Rosmerta’s fare at the Three Broomsticks, and of the fond memories she had shared with Harry and Ron. Snape had sneered before seeing the sadness on her face and in her eyes at the mention of her friends. He quickly felt a pain in his gut and told her he was going out for a moment and he would be back. He had returned with dinner for two, gruffly waving off her thanks.

 

It quickly became their Friday night tradition, eating fish and chips, newspaper and all, while drinking pints. She had found that although Snape would take alcohol in any form, he was a sucker for a good pint. She had been learning a lot about the wizard, lately. When he read, he would tilt his head ever so slightly to the right. He hated tinned beans, much to Hermione’s displeasure as she grew up eating them. He had a wicked, dry sense of humor and he loved his lab almost more than his massive collection of books.

 

Hermione was pulled from her reverie by a sharp knock at the door. _That’s never happened before._ Snape looked just as alarmed as she did. Before Hermione could even process what was happening, she was being shoved in a closet, right off of the kitchen.

 

Snape cracked the front door open, shocked to see Lucius Malfoy standing on the porch.

 

“Severus. May I come in?”

 

“Please do, Lucius.”

 

Severus led the blonde wizard into the sitting room, quickly vanishing the fish and chips as they walked past the kitchen.

 

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

 

“No, no. This is not a social visit. I must be going soon. I only wish to convey a warning,” Lucius explained, his disheveled hair falling into his face. This was not the proud wizard Snape knew in his youth.

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“The Dark Lord grows suspicious, Severus. Greyback deemed it necessary to inform the mad bastard about you disposing of mudblood Granger,”

 

The younger wizard’s fingers gripped the worn leather of his favorite armchair at both hearing Hermione being referred to in that way, and the fact that the Dark Lord knew Snape had taken Granger against his orders. _Fuck. Does he believe her to be alive? I wonder…_

 

“I do not know if you have the girl here, old friend, and I care not. I only want you to be sure of what you are doing. You must know what is at stake here. The Dark Lord grows erratic every day, killing anyone who displeases him in the slightest,” Lucius said, his eyes betraying the affection he held for his closest friend.

 

“I appreciate the warning, Lucius. I will take it seriously,” Snape stood, leading Lucius to the front door. Just as Lucius was about to disapparate he turned back to Severus.

 

“Take care of yourself, Severus.”

 

Severus nodded and re-entered his home. The minute he heard Lucius leave, he opened the closet door. Hermione was on the floor, tears falling down her cheeks. She said nothing, only looked at him.

 

“I am assuming you heard all of that?” Severus asked. Hermione nodded.

 

“It is very likely the next time I go before the Dark Lord I will die,” he said, watching the girl bury her head in her hands.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione had been on edge ever since Lucius Malfoy’s unexpected visit. At any moment, Severus could be summoned to Voldemort’s side and he would be forced to explain himself, and possibly be murdered outright before he even got the chance. And it was all her fault. If she and the boys had not have gotten caught, Snape would have never been forced to save her life, and his position within Voldemort’s ranks would be secure. Now, everything was at risk.

 

The house was once again dark. Hermione’s presence had made the slightly dilapidated home actually _feel_ like a home. In the evenings, it was cozy, a fire roaring in the fireplace. During the day, it was as if the sun actually shone into the few small windows scattered throughout the small downstairs. Life did not seem so bleak. Now, everything was different. The bubble was popped and Severus felt an impending sense of doom. How could he get himself out of this one? There was no logical explanation or excuse to feed the Dark Lord. He acted against his wishes in taking the girl.

 

Severus had accepted the fact that he would not survive this war long ago. While Hermione was shaking and unable to sit still, Severus did nothing but stay in the same spot, day after day, waiting for the itching and burning of his mark.

 

“There has to be something we can do?” Hermione would ask.

 

“There is nothing,” he would respond.

 

Hermione was not one to lie down and take whatever garbage was coming their way. She constantly tried to think of a plan, of anything that would save Severus. He deserved to live and to be happy when this was all over. She wanted to repay him one day for his kindness, no matter how begrudging it was. He still saved her life, and that meant something.

 

On the fifth evening after Malfoy’s visit, Hermione found herself staring at the wizard. There was an open book on his lap, but he had not turned a page in hours. Her heart broke for him. No matter what he said, Hermione knew he did not want to die.

 

“Severus…” she whispered. His eyes shot to hers. They had agreed on first names, but this was the first time Hermione actually used his.

 

“I don’t want you to die.”

 

“You have little say in the matter.”

 

Hermione sighed. He was hopeless. How could she get him to fight?

 

“Why don’t we do something?” she asked.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Anything,” she responded. “Let’s get drunk. That seems to be one of your favorite pastimes.”

 

He smirked. He wouldn’t have thought someone like Hermione to be such a drinker.

 

“It will do nothing but make you maudlin, and I have no wish of spending my possible last day on this earth with a crying Gryffindor,”

 

“Well, at least you won’t have to go to your death sober. That is, if he calls you tonight.”

 

_Bloody girl was right. Fuck it._

 

“Well, we may as well get cigarettes, too,” he sighed. Hermione laughed.

 

“Do you think I could go with you?”

 

“It would not be wise,” he said. _What does it matter? I will be dead, and Hermione will be free to find her dunderheaded friends._ “But I am willing to make an exception.”

 

Hermione smiled and raced up the stairs. She threw on the nearest jumper she could find and her trainers. She met Snape at the front door. He was dressed in Muggle clothes, all black.

 

“Woah,” Hermione said. He looked nice. Almost handsome. His hair reached just to his shoulders, and his face was freshly shaved. He wore a long coat, made from the same wool as his usual robes, giving Hermione the impression he simply transfigured his usual outfit. The wizard shifted his weight at Hermione’s blatant inspection. He could feel his cheeks warming.

 

“Sorry, I’ve never seen you in Muggle clothes,” Hermione explained.

 

“Yes, well, I do live in a Muggle neighborhood.”

 

“I’m excited to see it.”

 

Severus scoffed. “It is not impressive. Come,” he motioned for her to exit first. Once they were on the porch, he locked and warded the house.

 

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked.

 

“Corner shop,” he mumbled. He had been frequenting the place since he was child, his father often smacking him and telling him to go buy smokes. The proprietor, an old Irish man, never paid any attention to the fact Snape was a minor.

 

Hermione speed walked to keep up with the tall man. The sun was just setting, the sky a mixture of dark blues and rich oranges. From what she could see, as they walked down the street, Snape lived in a rather poor area. Most of the houses were in awful condition, and the residents themselves looked as if they had seen better days. The pair strode past a dirty bank and stream of water. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the smell and grabbed onto Snape’s arm.

 

He glanced down at the girl, but said nothing. To Hermione’s surprise, he did not shake her off. He simply kept walking, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. He was almost enjoying himself. Hermione did not frown or look scared. She was not even phased by his less than stellar neighborhood. Severus knew for sure she would be disgusted by the way he lived, as everyone else in his life had been. Lily especially had disliked venturing to his side of town. She had lived in a comfortably middle-class home with her two loving parents, and pitied Severus. It was evident every time they talked about his home life.

 

“We are almost there,” Snape said, snapping out of it.

 

The pair arrived at the small corner shop, Hermione untangling herself from Snape’s arm.

 

“Thank you,” she smiled as he held the door open for her.

 

An old man sat at the front, flipping through a newspaper.

 

“Snape,” he greeted, in his Irish brogue.

 

“Willie,” Severus nodded in return.

 

“Who is this young lass?” The older man smiled as his gaze landed on Hermione.

 

“A friend. Granger, you may choose whatever you wish,” he waved her off. Hermione didn’t need to be told twice. She weaved between the small aisles, browsing as Severus set his usual ale on the counter.

 

“This it for you, lad?”

 

“Cigarettes. My usual.”

 

Hermione arrived at the front of the store, a chocolate bar in hand. Severus raised an eyebrow as she set it on the counter with the ale.

 

“Chocolate?”

 

“Yes. Dark chocolate, to be exact. We can split it.” She grinned.

 

Severus pulled a few wrinkled notes from his pocket. Willie waved him off.

 

“Ah, keep your money. You and your girl enjoy your evening,” Willie said with a wink.

 

Severus’s mouth must have been agape, because Hermione jumped in and thanked the old man before leading the shocked wizard back outside.

 

“You can close your mouth now, Severus.” Hermione playfully nudged him.

 

“He seemed to think we were…”

 

“Together? Yes, I gathered.”

 

“How preposterous! I am old enough to be your father, for Christ’s sake,” he shook his head.

 

“Please. My own parents had an age gap of thirteen years! Twenty is hardly a big deal,” Hermione retorted. _Fuck. I made it sound as if I were justifying a relationship between us. That’s crazy… right?_

 

“We are home,” he said, trying to change the subject. His stomach was fluttering. He squashed it almost immediately.

 

“Yeah. Home,” Hermione smiled. They were home.

 

* * *

 

 An hour later, Severus was pleasantly tipsy. Hermione convinced him to sit on the ground with her, leaned against the couch in front of the fireplace, instead of his usual place in the armchair. She even managed to get him to take off his heavy, potion stained, dragon hide boots and was now clad in black socks.

 

“I always get hungry when I drink,” Hermione said, breaking off a piece of dark chocolate. “I get it from my mum. She always craves crisps or chocolate after drinking.”

 

“Where are your parents now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“I obliviated them. They live in Australia, with no memory of ever having a daughter,” she took another swig of ale and passed the large bottle back to Severus. He had insisted on getting separate glasses for the two of them, but she brushed him off, saying she didn’t mind drinking after him. It was a heady thought, that her mouth is somewhere his has been. The rim of the bottle was warm every time she went to take a sip.

 

“You are aware that is permanent?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “I would rather they be alive and not know me, than be dead.”

 

“I am sorry, Hermione.”

 

“Tell me about your parents,” she pressed. Severus sighed. This was not something he wished to get into. _Why not tell the girl? Soon, I’ll be gone and she’ll forget it anyway._

 

“I have lived here my whole life. My mother was a Pureblood witch, you see,”

 

“Yes, I know. Eileen Prince,” Hermione said. She noticed how taken aback Severus was at this information. “I did some research back when we were trying to figure out who the Half Blood Prince was. I came across your mum. She played Gobstones,” Hermione smiled remembering the severe looking woman with long, straight black hair. Severus was the spitting image of her.

 

“Yes. Shortly after leaving Hogwarts she met my Muggle father and they married. Most likely because she was expecting me,” Severus sneered. “They did not have a happy marriage. He was angry when he found out she was a witch, you see. He hated magic and bullied her into never using it.”

 

“But that’s awful! Suppressing your magic can lead to disaster,” Hermione exclaimed. She had only read about it in books, what could happen to witches and wizards that held their power inside for too long.

 

“She did not suppress it completely. Only when he was around. When I first started showing signs, accidentally levitating things and whatnot, she showed me how to control it. Now that I think about it, it was out of a desire to keep my father happy rather than trying to help me. She would teach me different incantations with her wand,” Severus almost smiled. “I still have it here, somewhere.”

 

“It sounds like she loved you,” Hermione said. His face darkened.

 

“No. She did not. No one ever has,” Severus grabbed the bottle and took a large gulp.

 

“Surely your own mother…”

 

“No, Hermione. If she did, she would have protected me. She would have gotten us out of this hovel and away from that bastard. But she didn’t. She stayed. After all the beatings and the fights, she would simply pick herself up off the floor and go about her day.”

 

“Why? Why was he so angry?”

 

“He had a freak for a wife and a scrawny, greasy son. By the time I got my Hogwarts letter, he had lost his job and himself in the bottle,” he held his own bottle up at that statement.

 

“You are not your father, Severus.”

 

“Maybe not. But that does not mean I am a good man. You would be a fool to think otherwise.”

 

“I am not having this argument with you again. I know what you are and that’s all that matters.”

 

She reached out and touched his hand. It may have been the ale or the depressing nature of their conversation, but he did not pull away. He grabbed her small hand with his long fingers and held it. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

 

“It is your turn to divulge something,” he murmured, still not letting go of her hand.

 

Hermione was at a loss. She had no idea what to tell him. She was a rather boring person, she did her homework and read every day from the time she was eleven until recently. Her childhood, in comparison to his, was a dream. She had two loving parents. She had an extended family and grandparents. They were well off. There were no complaints, other than the fact she felt out of place.

 

“C’mon, Granger. Tell me anything. Make me forget,” he said, his head falling back onto the cushion of the couch. Her heart broke for him.

 

“I had two wonderful parents. They would have done anything for me. They supported me, even though they did not understand. As much as they tried and as much as they wanted to, they never would have a complete grasp of the magical world. I remember them being especially hurt after the Department of Mysteries. Professor McGonagall was obligated to tell them what really happened.”

 

“And they were upset?”

 

“They threatened to pull me out of school. I told them it wasn’t their choice anymore, that a war was happening and I had to fight. The looks on their faces killed me. They never said it, but I know they believed I chose magic over them. And I guess I did.”

 

“It is not something you could help, Hermione. You said it yourself, it is damn near impossible to successfully suppress your magic.”

 

“Still. I could have done better.”

 

“We all could have.”

 

“May I have a cigarette, please?”

 

He hadn’t taken her for the smoking type. He thought she would be one of those that turned her nose up at the habit, as Lily had. He can remember the look of disgust on her face the first time he lit up in front of her. Severus found himself passing Hermione a cigarette and lighting it with his wand.

 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he said.

 

“I don’t. Well, there was this one time my grandfather let me have puff of his cigar at Christmas. I choked and threw up all over my father’s study,” Hermione laughed. Severus found he enjoyed the sound very much.

 

“I have been smoking since age fourteen,” he admitted.

 

“That’s so young!”

 

“Everyone around here started young, Granger.”

 

They both chuckled and fell silent. Hermione smoked the cigarette down to the filter and passed it to Severus. He surprised her by taking a hit of it himself before tossing it into the fire. They were silent for a moment, enjoying each other’s company.

 

“I wonder what they’re up to,” Hermione said after a while. Severus knew who she was referring to.

 

“Planning their next move, I hope.”

 

“I do, too. I want all of this to be over. I’m so tired,” she whimpered. Severus snorted.

 

“Yes, I am rather tired as well. I have been dealing with megalomaniacs and masters for too long now,” Snape drained the rest of the bottle. They were both drunk now, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout their bodies.

 

“I wanted it to be Ron, you know,” Hermione said randomly. The comment pulled Severus back into the present day.

 

“Wanted him to be what?”

 

“My first.”

 

Severus paused. The girl was drunk, there was no way she knew what she was speaking about.

 

“Oh?” he cringed.

 

“Mmhm. I know he’s liked me for a while now. And I supposed I liked him back. Now… everything has changed. He wouldn’t want me like this.”

 

 _Merlin, why does my chest hurt at the thought of her and that red headed imbecile?_ Severus took a deep breath.

 

“You are not damaged goods, Hermione,” he started. She turned her head towards his. “You are a strong witch who will have a normal life. If Weasley tells you otherwise, he is an idiot not worthy of your time.”

 

She looked like she was about to hug him. _Why did I open my big mouth?_

 

Hermione rested her head on Severus’s shoulder. Their fingers were still touching.

 

“Thank you,” she yawned. Before either of them knew it, they had fallen asleep.

 

* * *

 

 Severus stirred. The small living room was bright and the fire was out. _I must’ve fallen asleep._ He dug his forefingers into his temples to try and alleviate some of the pain. To his left was Granger. _Hermione,_ he reminded himself. She was still asleep, snoring lightly, propped against the couch. Her mouth was slightly open, her breath moving a stray curl that must’ve fallen on her face in the night. This was not the first time Severus had seen her sleeping, he had spent days by her side as she recovered and had gotten use to the sight. However, this felt different. She was not his patient and he was not her caregiver anymore.

 

Could they be friends, of some sort? Severus didn’t know. He only had one friend his entire life and that had not ended well. There was nothing else for him to compare this new, unique relationship to. He felt protective over her, he knew that much. He certainly did not want her injured further. All he wanted was for Hermione Granger to be well and able to go back to her friends. The thought alone of her being tortured at the hands of the Dark Lord or any of his so-called brothers was enough to make him sick. He still felt tremendous guilt at the fact she already had suffered so great.

 

His thinking was disrupted by the pain that sprung forth from his mark. He gasped and grabbed his arm. Severus knew this was coming. He knew that the Dark Lord would wait as long as possible to summon him. He would enjoy the torment and nervousness he caused, making Severus wait day after day for his summons, the wizard never knowing when he would be called. _Sadistic bastard,_ Severus thought.

 

Hermione jumped at Snape’s gasp. It was her worst fear realized. _No. This can’t be happening._

 

“Severus, what’s wrong?” she asked.

 

“I am being summoned.” 

 

He was already up and gathering his robes and mask. Hermione stood, wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“Please. Be careful.” Hermione choked out. She knew it was futile, but she had to say it.

 

“I will.”

 

Severus nodded at Hermione. They stood still for a moment. Hermione wanted nothing more than to hug him, to give him any sort of comfort, but she couldn’t. He wouldn’t want it, for one thing, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself. Not anymore. She had already been stripped down to nothing in front of this man. She would not cry or hug him or torture him with her childish notions. She would allow him to go to his death with the dignity that he deserved.

 

Severus gave her one of his almost smiles. He quirked his lips up at the corners and his eyes softened. It was the closest Hermione would get to the actual thing, so she accepted it and walked him out.

 

Here he was, on a somewhat sunny late March afternoon, being led out of his own house by a somewhat pleasant witch. He could not have asked for a better send off. With Hermione’s sad, smiling face stuck firmly in his mind, he Apparated away.


	7. Foreigner's God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for the reviews. Keep them coming! I also apologize for any errors, I had a hard time learning how to update and edit chapters. I hope you enjoy :)

Severus landed directly in Malfoy Manor, in front of the Dark Lord. Almost all of his followers were there, standing off to the side. He could make Bellatrix out, the witch was prancing about and cackling, for she knew his fate. Lucius met his eyes briefly before turning away. Narcissa looked as if she were about to vomit, and Draco was as pale as always.

 The Dark Lord remained unmoving as Severus dropped to his knees and kissed the hem of his robes.

 “My Lord,” Snape said, quietly. He was determined to remain somewhat calm and collected, regardless of how fast his heart was beating. He would not die as the hundreds of sniveling men before him had, begging and pleading for mercy. No. He would keep his chin up and in his last moments he may even tell the scaly bastard what he truly thought of him.

 “Severus. It is so good to see you,” the Dark Lord murmured. Severus could see the venom in his eyes. “I have heard some troubling news about my… most _trusted_ disciple.”

 “And what news would that be, my Lord?”

 “That you are not loyal to me or to your brethren.”

 Severus’s mouth dropped open, just for dramatic effect. The Dark Lord was not placated by this reaction. If anything, his suspicions grew. His red eyes narrowed dangerously at the wizard in front of him.

 “Who would tell you such a thing, my Lord?”

 “Greyback. He mentioned that you were the one to dispose of the Mudblood’s corpse after my lovely congregation had their fill and took their pleasure. At first, when the allegations were brought to my attention, I believed them to false,” he laughed. “However, they do add up, Severus. Why would you take the Mudblood?”

 “With all due respect, I had no desire to see Greyback _indulge_ himself in eating the irritating chit. He has rather sloppy table manners,” Severus sneered in the werewolf’s direction. Any other day, Greyback would have taken the bait and reacted. Today, he was content in licking his enlarged canines, waiting for Severus to finally meet his end.

 “So you say, Severus,” Voldemort replied, waving his hand. “I would like to see for myself what your true intentions were, if I may?”

 Severus knew it wasn’t a question. It was more of a command. He stepped forward and raised his head, hair falling out of his eyes. Black met red and Voldemort was in his head. He swam past the memories he had already seen and had no interest in. Severus allowed flashes of Dumbledore to peep through his shields, letting the disgust and hatred he held for the old man overpower any positive feelings. He allowed bits of previous revels to show, his cheering and jeering. As much as he hated it, he also let Hermione’s assault slip through. Severus had a solid week to prepare a slightly edited memory for the Dark Lord to see. He could feel the evil wizard’s interest peak as he lingered on the images of Hermione’s bruised and battered body. Once the memory had played almost to the end, Severus pushed forth the image of him levitating the girl out of the mansion. Instead of Apparating away with her in his arms, he transfigured her seemingly dead body into a bone and tossed it into the woods.

 The Dark Lord pulled out of his mind with a painful jolt. A tiny part of Severus thought he would be mollified by this memory, that he would laugh and simply dismiss him before torturing the absolute fuck out of Greyback. That hopeful bug was squashed in an instant.

 “I do not believe you to be capable of creating such an excellent false memory,” Voldemort scoffed. Severus grit his teeth at the insult. The Dark Lord was always cocky when it came to his own abilities. The black-haired wizard prayed that it would be the cause of his eventual downfall. “But I am still not pleased. There are many things I have begun to question, Severus, and I have no intention of discussing all of them at the present time. Dolohov!”

 “Master?”

 “He is all yours. If he does not break, then we will know for sure his true loyalties,” the Dark Lord smirked.

 Severus felt his stomach drop to his feet. This is how he would perish. Being cursed and cut and broken over and over again by wizards he had known since he was a child. Dolohov nodded to the Death Eaters on the sidelines. Some, like Bellatrix and the Carrow siblings, gagged at the opportunity, while the Malfoys approached their old friend slowly, with remorse on their ghost white faces.

 “Lucius? Care to be the first?” Dolohov smiled, for he knew how close the two wizards were.

 “Absolutely, brother.”

 Lucius stalked toward Severus, pulling his wand from his sleeve. He circled the younger man like a lion stalking its prey. Severus forced himself to remain still, to resist the urge to turn and allow his eyes to follow his closest friend. When Lucius circled back to Severus’s front, he met his eyes briefly. There was an apology in them. Severus couldn’t help but to give the man a small nod, telling him he understood.

 The first curse Lucius hit him with a mild _Cruciatus._ It was enough to make Severus drop to his knees, but did not hold the power to make him scream. Severus grunted anyway, making it seem worse than it was. It was the last kindness he could give him.

 “Oi! You aren’t doing it good enough, look at him!” Dolohov shouted. “Let me have a go.”

Dolohov shoved Lucius out of the way and proceeded to use some of the nastiest curses he could think of. Purple light shot forth from his wand, hitting Severus square in the back. It felt as if his blood was boiling and his bones were disintegrating. The curse was Dolohov’s specialty, and Severus had seen the outcome numerous times. He had, in fact, helped Hermione’s recovery during her fifth year after Dolohov cursed her. She had hit the wizard with a silencing charm, and he non-verbally cast the curse. Had he not been silenced, Hermione would have felt the excruciating pain Severus was now feeling.

 After what seemed like an eternity, Dolohov released the curse and the next wizard stepped forward. Rookwood, Amycus Carrow, and the younger Malfoy all had a go tossing hexes and curses before Bellatrix stepped before the Dark Lord.

 “Please, please! I was good as you said, my Lord, may I please have a turn now?” Bellatrix hopped from foot to foot, putting on her sweetest voice for her master. It was sickening how their relationship worked. Severus never got the impression Voldemort cared anything for the mad witch, she was simply easy to manipulate. She would grovel, do anything she could to please him, but he never gave her the praise she so desperately craved. It was his way of keeping her safely under his thumb for when he had use of her. _That is how he treats all of us, these morons are just too stupid to see it_ , Severus thought, spitting out blood.  

 Voldemort rolled his eyes and motioned for her to step forward and have her fun.

 “Poor little Snape. There’s no Dumbledore to save you now, _coward,”_ she whispered into his ear. Bellatrix knew this was a surefire way to get a rise out of him, but he did nothing. She lost her smile in an instant at his failure to react. He grinned, showing his crooked, yellow teeth. He loved nothing more than getting Bellatrix riled up.

 The _Sectumsempra_ hit his already bleeding body. _Of course, she would use my own curse against me._ Blood squirted from his abdomen, some of it spattering on Draco’s face. The boy screamed and Narcissa ran to comfort him. Bellatrix sneered at her weak sister before turning back to Snape. She flipped him over with her boot, pressing the pointed heel into his neck.

“Is that all you’ve got, Bella?” Severus coughed. Bellatrix kicked him in the ribs.

“Maybe a little bit of filthy Muggle fighting will do think trick, hmm?” she motioned for her husband and brother-in-law to come forward.

Severus took blow after blow from the wizards. He could feel his bones breaking. Not once did he cry out in pain. Not once did he scream. He choked back every grunt that threatened to escape his dry throat. The blood loss was extreme, his vision was starting to get cloudy. _Finally. Time to slip into oblivion._ Severus wanted death. Anything would be preferable to this hell. He thought of Lily and their time together before she met James Potter. The memories flitted through his mind, he was sure he was smiling. All he saw was her. He would die with the thought of her brown eyes. _Brown? Lily had green eyes…_

The vision had changed. Instead of long, straight red hair, there was a mass of frizzy, brown curls. _Hermione._ It had taken him a while to accept the fact that she genuinely believed him to be a friend, and what an odd fucking friendship it was _._ He hated that she would feel pain over his death. Maybe he should have said more to the witch, told her how she made the past few weeks bearable, that it was not her fault. Looking back, Severus realized he would do it all over again. The world was simply a better place with Hermione Granger in it.

“Enough!” The Dark Lord shouted, just as Greyback was going for Severus. “I believe he has sufficiently proved himself. Lucius, take care of this mess.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The wizard choked, stopping himself from walking too fast to Severus.

“I get cheated every fucking time! This is bullshit!” Greyback roared, the wolf coming out. He ripped his shirt off of his furry chest and stalked toward the Dark Lord. The wizard didn’t even bat an eye before sending Greyback flying across the room and through the wall.

Dolohov’s lip curled. It wasn’t a secret Snape was a double-crossing traitor who would play whatever side he could. Almost every member in the Dark Lord’s ranks had their own suspicions. Snape would do anything to get ahead and the Dark Lord refused to see it! If he didn’t listen to Greyback, he certainly wouldn’t listen to Dolohov. There was no use in speaking up. All Dolohov could do was bide his time and watch Lucius grab his friend and Apparate back to Spinner’s End.

 

* * *

 

Hermione sat and stared at the door. There was still that niggling little spark of hope in her stomach. Severus could still be alive. He had survived this long, he could make it out of this too, right? He would deny everything, Voldemort would see his false memories, and then he could come home and they would drink and sit in front of the fire as they had the previous night. _I should have hugged him. I should have let him know I was here for him._ There was so much regret, so many things that she should have or could have done. All of those nights spent in bed or the bathtub, crying, when Severus was alone. _I am such a selfish idiot._ Hermione wanted to scream.

Four hours. He had been gone four hours. The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air. As every minute passed, Hermione felt more and more hopeless. Just as she was about to fling herself into his bed and sniff his pillows she heard the faint crack of Apparition on the front porch. Hermione didn’t take the time to check and see who was outside before yanking open the door.

The sight was horrifying. The first person she saw was Lucius, his bloodshot gray eyes and dull hair were prominent, as was the black bundle of robes in his arms.

“I… I…” Hermione stuttered. There was no logical way to explain why she was alive and at Severus Snape’s house.

“Move! Ignorant girl!” Lucius pushed his way into the house and deposited Severus onto the couch. He ripped the unconscious man’s robes off and spelled off his frock coat and shirt. Hermione gasped when she saw the blood pouring out of his abdominal wounds. His ribs and chest were already starting to bruise and his leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Hermione couldn’t handle looking at his face and the condition it was in.

“Where does he keep his supply of potions? Tell me!” Lucius screamed. Hermione jumped.

“I… I don’t know! He never showed me!”

“Bloody fucking hell! And you’re supposed to be the smart one!”

“Wait, let me check the loo!”

Hermione sprinted up the stairs and into the bathroom. She tore open the cabinets, rummaging through unmarked bottles that contained homemade soaps and shampoos. _That explains his hair._ Hermione found no potions in the small bathroom. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to think. _Where would he keep his bloody potions? Bedroom!_

Luckily, Severus kept a large supply of medicinal potions by his bedside in a warded cabinet. Hermione was able to dismantle the wards easy enough, and take a variety of healing potions.

“Are these alright?” Hermione asked when she reached the bottom step. Lucius was still hovering over Severus, lightly singing an incantation. The gashes began to knit together and the blood seeped back into the wounds at a crawl.

“Blood Replenishing. Now.” Lucius held his hand out without even looking at Hermione. She placed the vial in his palm and he held it to Severus’s lips.

“No! He could choke.” Hermione deposited the pile of potions on the floor and knelt by Severus. Her fingers gently massaged the long column of his throat. He was pale on a good day, now he looked like a literal ghost. He looked dead.

“Severus. Please.” Hermione whispered. It seemed to do the trick. Severus instinctively swallowed the potion, a bit of color returning to his cheeks.

“Thank Merlin. Here’s another.” Lucius passed the girl more vials. She was better at this healing garbage than he was. Lucius did not have an aptitude for much besides drinking and sneering at those he deemed beneath him. He sat back on his heels and watched Hermione struggle to get potions into Severus’s system. She handled him with an impossible kind of care he had never seen. There was sorrow and tenderness in her eyes, and her fingers shook every time she held a vial to his lips. How could Lucius hate her when she so obviously cared for his friend?

This war was not like the first. He was not on top and in the Dark Lord’s good favor. He was scum and he did nothing but fuck up. His marriage, his son’s future. Everything was destroyed. Even if the Dark Lord came out victorious, Lucius would be resigned to being a servant, only around to please his master. That definitely changes a person’s perspective.

“His leg. What do we do?” Hermione asked. Lucius’s gaze jerked to hers.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the charm, Granger.”

“ _Ferula,”_ Hermione sighed. Severus’s fracture was healed and splinted. It would take a few more days to heal completely, which was preferable to healing the Muggle way. At times like this, Hermione really appreciated magic.

“I do believe that covers the serious injuries,” Lucius said, standing and working the kinks of out his neck. “He will live.”

“And his mind? It’s not…” Hermione couldn’t fathom the thought of Severus ending up like the Longbottoms. He was the most brilliant man she had ever met, possibly on the entire planet.

“He was not under the _Cruciatus_ long enough,” Lucius huffed. “They switched to Muggle methods of torture earlier than expected.”

Hermione must have had a horrified look on her face because Lucius quickly backtracked.

“He was strong. Barely even flinched.” Lucius glanced at his friend, cramped on that god-awful couch, clad in his pants.

Hermione nodded her head. _He’s had to be strong for too long._

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Malfoy?”

“No, I should be getting back. Narcissa will be wondering where I am.”

“I trust that you won’t tell anyone I’m here.”

Hermione stood, gripping her wand in a defensive way. Lucius smirked. The girl surprised him. And she could best him in a duel, he had no doubt.

“You have my word, Miss Granger. If you would allow me to assist you…” Lucius meant to levitate Severus upstairs, as Hermione had almost depleted her magic. She was quick to shake her head in the negative.

“I can handle it. I just have to finish getting this blood off of him and get him to his bed. No big deal,” she smiled, hopefully reassuring. Lucius cocked his head and arched his eyebrow. He would most definitely be asking Severus about this.

“Thank you. For saving him,” Hermione held out her hand. Lucius shook it.

 

* * *

 

After ushering Lucius out of the door, Hermione turned back to Severus. He was scrunched uncomfortably, his long limbs touching the ground. If it weren’t for the blood and bruises he would look almost peaceful.

Hermione took a breath, trying to summon any remaining strength to levitate him upstairs. He was heavier and harder to lift than she imagined. It took a few tries, but she managed to get him at least to the top of the stairs before ending the spell and allowing his weight to fall on her. _Bloody hell! He’s so thin, why does he have to weigh so much?_ It was a struggle trying to support him, avoid his injured leg, and try to slow her breathing so she could focus on her magic.

Five minutes later, they made it into his bedroom and Hermione promptly collapsed beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione yawned. It was dark outside, the room pitch black. Reaching around for her wand, she muttered _Lumos_ and the room was illuminated. Severus Snape snored lightly beside her. Hermione wanted him to sleep for as long as possible, even if she had to constantly give him sleeping potions. She knew his ways. He would be back up and in his lab within a day, telling her there was nothing to worry about.

Turning on the bedside lamp, Hermione stood and stretched her aching muscles. _I suppose I should clean him up now._ Her magic was not what it should be yet. She could still feel the weakness. Looking at Severus, she sighed. He was filthy, the bedsheets were already covered in muck from the both of them. The only other option was for her to clean him by hand, which was absolutely out of the question. Severus would flip if he found out and Hermione couldn’t even look at him in his current state without blushing. _It not as if he’s completely naked, he still has his underpants. C’mon, Granger._

Hermione rolled her eyes. A cleansing charm wouldn’t even be sufficient. By the time she cast the multiple charms it would take, her magic would once again be depleted. She used her wand to summon a basin of warm soapy water and a flannel. Dipping it into the suds, Hermione laid the warm rag on his chest. There was a thick layer of dried blood and dirt. It took a few minutes, but slowly his torso was fully clean. He really was a thin man, his ribs poking out. Hermione reached a hand out and ran a finger down his chest, feeling the sparse black hair. His arms were the next to be cleaned. She took her time running the flannel in between his long fingers. He really did have beautiful hands. The only word Hermione could think of to describe them was dainty. It was such an un-Snape like description, but the severe man had such delicate limbs. His arms were toned, probably due to lifting cauldrons for most of his life. Hermione soaped his biceps and ran the flannel back down to his wrist, noticing the pale blue veins.

This was the first time Hermione had ever been in such a position, and she found that she quite enjoyed it. The closest she had ever been to naked man was when she lived out of the tent with Harry and Ron. She would catch glimpses after accidentally walking in on one of them, before running out. Especially with Ron. The sight of his lean, freckled body always made her blush uncontrollably. Here, with Severus, she was not blushing. She was at ease. Maybe it was because he was unconscious…

Hermione shook her head, feeling like a total pervert for looking at him in such a manner. When it came to her own healing, he was strictly professional, not once did he glance at her body. And here she was leering over him.

She worked quickly on the rest of his body, even washing in between his toes. Like his hands, his feet were surprisingly attractive. _Stop it, Hermione._ She wiped the sweat and gore from the wizard’s face. His nose really was unfortunate, but Hermione didn’t care. It was distinctive, aquiline. He was all sharp edges, his jawline prominent and starting to darken with stubble. Harry and Ron would always crack jokes about his looks or his hair or his teeth, which would irritate Hermione. She looked past everyone’s appearances, for she knew what she looked like. She had dull hair, it was never shiny and constantly frizzed. It was damn near impossible to take care of. Hermione was not ugly by any means, but she was ordinary. _Plain. Who likes plain?_ It was a miracle Ronald was even interested in her. That was part of the reason she had been considering taking him up on his offer to date. Who knew if she would ever get the opportunity again?

After rinsing his legs, the only body part that remained was thankfully covered by his pants. This she would use a cleansing charm for. Closing her eyes, she grabbed the waistband of his underpants and lifted them slightly, just enough for her to cast a gentle charm over his privates. It probably wasn’t enough, but it was something.

He was clean at last. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, watching the snoring man’s chest rise and fall with every breath he took. A smile appeared on her lips. He was going to be okay. She had never felt happier.


End file.
